Home from the Hospital
by Richefic
Summary: Spoilers for 2.22 SWAK. Dr Pitt decrees that Tony is well enough to be released from the Hospital into Gibbs' care beginning the long, sometimes hard, road to recovery.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – I don't own NCIS and this isn't May 2005 even though this story is set right after SWAK

AN – AZ Girl wanted to see more of Gibbs looking after Tony post plague and so this is what I came up with.

* * *

Shrugging into his jacket Gibbs took a last look around. His kitchen gleaned and the warm woods of the living room shone, as every dust bunny in the vicinity had been forcibly evicted. The covers on the couch were freshly washed, the curtains newly laundered, even the door to the basement was, for once, firmly closed, to keep any stray sawdust at bay. Even though he had already swept up whatever he could find and covered the boat with a tarpaulin.

Better safe than sorry.

It wasn't like he was going to be working on the boat for a while.

The biggest change in the lounge room was the jet black monster lurking in the corner. The damn thing was made of the softest leather and finest craftsmanship. It could assume more positions than the Kama Sutra, or so the young salesman had told Gibbs, right before blanching at the icy glare he had received in return. It was definitely a high end modal, the best that money could buy and the former Marine had signed the four figure check without blinking an eye.

Didn't mean he had to like what it represented.

As Gibbs picked up the small holdall already packed and waiting by the door and folded the long wool dark coat over his arm, he couldn't resist having one last look around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything important. As he did so, his lips pressed together, caught in a sudden unexpected feeling of déjà vu. This wasn't exactly the same as the day he had first brought Kelly home from the Hospital for the first time. But it wasn't so different either.

The drive to Bethesda had become almost second nature over the last couple of weeks. Gibbs knew that they would be back for check ups and DiNozzo's final fitness evaluation. But he couldn't pretend he would miss the twice daily commute. Nor the way that the nursing staff knew him by name, or the how no-one turned a hair when he turned up any hour of the day or night, bearing coffee and a stack of case files. He'd even tried bringing Pizza in one time but that hadn't ended so well.

"Gibbs."

Today, of all days, Gibbs wasn't surprised to see Brad Pitt waiting for him. He also fully expected to find Ducky, Abby, Kate and McGee all crowded into DiNozzo's room. However, the way the Doctor's face was furrowed in concern quickly made his gut tighten. He hoped to God there hadn't been some kind of set back he didn't think any of them could take much more, especially not Tony who had already travelled a damned hard road to get even _this_ far. But then when had the fates ever gone easy on his senior field Agent?

"What's wrong?" Gibbs cut to the chase.

"There's no deterioration in his condition," Brad was quick to address what he knew would be the former marine's greatest concern. "He slept most of the morning, then Emma helped him sit in the chair for a bit and he even managed to make it to the bathroom and back."

"He eat anything?" Gibbs noticed the telltale omission.

"He's still complaining that everything tastes like cardboard," Brad admitted. "And that the protein shakes don't come in Pina Colada flavour."

Gibbs gave a rueful grin. That sure sounded like DiNozzo. Still, he needed to get to the bottom of whatever was eating Pitt. Since his senior field Agent had been laid up in here, Gibbs had got to know his primary care doctor pretty well. He trusted the younger man with DiNozzo's life. Hell, he _was_ trusting him with his life, as it was on Pitt's recommendation that Tony was being released today. Or so Gibbs had hoped.

"You want to keep him in a few more days?" He bit the bullet.

"No," Brad met his gaze. "He's still as weak as a kitten and he's going to need both the oxygen and antibiotics for another week at least. But so long as he keeps up with his breathing exercises and has someone to make sure he takes some kind of nourishment and doesn't overdo things too there's no medical reason that he shouldn't be discharged."

"There some other kind of reason?" Gibbs raised a brow.

"We both know Tony's been right up against it this last week," Brad looked at Gibbs, his own eyes still hollow from lack of sleep as he had worked to do everything in his power to keep his patient and friend alive. Gibbs knew he didn't look much better having spent pretty much every night since he had closed the Lowell case at his Agent's beside before heading off to put a full day in at the Navy Yard. "If I'm honest, there were times when I didn't think he was going to make it."

"DiNozzo's a fighter." Gibbs acknowledged proudly.

"Can't argue with you there, beating odds of 15% is pretty impressive. Even so, he came about as close to dying as its possible to do and still come back from the brink," Brad pointed out. "That's not an easy thing for anyone to have to deal with."

"Tony's a Federal Agent," Gibbs didn't see a problem. "And before that he was a cop. He's faced death before, comes with the territory."

"He's used to confronting death," Brad agreed. "But generally, there's something he can do about it. He's got his skill, his experience, his teammates, sometimes even just pure dumb luck, to fall back on. This time he couldn't do anything but fight for each breath and wait to see if the scales would tip in his favour."

"You worried he won't be cleared for field duty?" Gibbs wasn't sure where this was heading. "I thought you said the damage to his lungs wasn't going to be a major issue?"

"It's not his lungs, I'm worried about," Brad looked awkward. "The thing is I've seen this kind of behaviour before in people who have received high dependency care or sometimes from the long term sick but I have to admit I didn't expect to see it from Tony. You know him better than I do. How does he usually deal with being hospitalised?"

"Badly," Gibbs snorted. After four years he knew exactly how much DiNozzo hated being cooped up in a Hospital bed. His Agent might complain endlessly about the food, being jabbed with needles, the lack of decent TV channels, the Hospital gowns, pretty much everything really, but Gibbs had caught on pretty quickly that what he really couldn't bear was being so helpless and vulnerable in front of strangers. "I've lost count of the times I've had to threaten to handcuff him to the bed to stop him signing himself out AMA."

Gibbs frowned. Although, now he came to think about it, DiNozzo had been pretty much a modal patient this time around. Much of that could likely be explained away by the fact that for the last week the kid hadn't been able to string together more than a few words without setting off a vicious coughing fit and any kind of exasperation, irritation, alliteration, hell, even making a bad joke, was likely to set off a chain of events which could be nigh on suicidal as the former athlete wheezed and gasped for sufficient breath. And no-one could blame the younger man for sleeping far more than the norm after the mill his body had been through these past seven days. Except, Gibbs outght to have know better than to beleive a quiet DiNozzo was ever a good thing.

He would head slap himself later. Now he had an Agent to worry about.

"You think he's got some kind of PTSD?"

That would make sense. DiNozzo had the darnedest knack for finding trouble and then beating himself up for things that weren't even his fault. As soon as he was strong enough Gibbs had already been planning to have a serious talk with his senior field Agent. Sure, Tony had acted like an ass when he had snatched the envelope from McGee but if there was any blame to be handed out there were a lot of other people in line before DiNozzo, starting with Hannah Lowell and not excluding Gibbs himself. It was his responsibility to ensure that his team followed proceedure.

"Maybe," Brad hedged. "Look, I know Tony likes to put on a good show for his friends but he's usually pretty straight with you, right?"

At first, Brad had to admit he had been frankly sceptical when Gibbs had swept into isolation and simply _ordered _ DiNozzo to live. But in the days and crucially the long nights that followed he had felt privileged to witness the obviously strong bond between the two men. Gibbs was the big guns, pulled out to be the voice of dire consequences when Tony was doing too much, like trying to take himself to the bathroom when he could barely stand, or to threaten a kick in the ass when he was doing too little, such as when he was reluctant to complete the full cycle of painful breathing exercises. But Gibbs had also been the only non-medical personnel Tony had permitted to support him through the worst of his coughing jags.

"Yeah, he is." Gibbs nodded.

"Then can you please have a talk with him and see what you think? Lord knows, I've tried but he keeps stonewalling me and when Dr Mallard spoke to him, Tony started coughing so badly that we still didn't get any answers. Abby won't even attempt it because she thinks the idea is 'totally un-Tony', we can't let Kate near him whilst there's still a risk he might catch her cold and this isn't the kind of thing DiNozzo's going to discuss with McGee."

"Still haven't told me what 'this' is." Gibbs pointed out.

Brad sighed softly, before looking up to meet the former marine's gaze. It was obvious to the older man that he was uncomfortable about what he was about to share. It was also equally apparent that he was deadly serious about this.

"I think Tony is afraid to leave the Hospital."


	2. Chapter 2

AN – I am quite overwhelmed at the response to this little story. I hope it doesn't disappoint. It probably won't have much in the way of plot but a lot of Tony trying to deal and Gibbs caring in his own way.

* * *

Gibbs braced himself as he entered the small waiting room where the rest of his team had gathered. In a glance, he read their expressions. Abby looked mutinous, ready to defend Tony's honour and his unblemished track record of wanting to escape from the clutches of medical care as soon as humanly possible. Kate looked concerned and Gibbs recalled that she and DiNozzo had spent some time together in the isolation chamber, maybe she knew something about this mess the rest of them didn't. Mallard looked somewhat grave, which was Gibbs' next clue that this was something to be taken seriously. McGee just looked worried and somewhat at a loss.

Gibbs sympathised, how the hell was anyone supposed to 'fix' something like this?

"Boss," To Gibbs surprise McGee was the first to speak. "We've been talking and Kate and I think we should go back to the Navy Yard. Tony's got enough going on right now, he doesn't need an audience."

"That's good thinking, Tim," Gibbs agreed.

His approval of the plan shone through in his unaccustomed use of his youngest Agent's first name and the ever rarer praise. There was more than one way to make sure that you had your partner's six and the last thing DiNozzo would want right now was a whole lot of people gawking at him, even if they were his team. Hell, knowing his senior field Agent perhaps especially if they were his team. One of these days, Gibbs was going to knock it into that damned fool head of his that it wasn't wrong to show weakness in front of people who cared about you.

"We'll tell Morrow that you will be out of the office for the rest of the morning," Kate put in, as she followed McGee to the door. "You just take care of Tony."

"Kate."

Turning on her heel, she looked at him her expression a mixture of resignation and anxiety. Sending McGee towards the elevator with a jerk of his head, Gibbs stepped out into the hallway with her to give them a little privacy from the rest of the group. Kate bit her lip uncertainly as he fixed her with a look. They both knew that she had something to say but it clearly wasn't a confidence she felt comfortable revealing.

"Spit it out." Gibbs commanded, not unkindly.

"It might be nothing," Kate qualified, even though as an investigator she knew very well that even the smallest details could be crucial. "When we were waiting to find out if we were infected, I thought Tony was just being his usual, annoying self, but as the time went on, I realised that I'd never seen him quite like this before. He was worried, anxious even, perhaps just a little .."

"Scared?" Gibbs finished for her.

"I know it's not like him," Kate admitted. "But this wasn't like anything we've ever faced. The danger wasn't something we could confront. I don't blame him for being afraid. I know I was. Who could imagine having to deal with something like the Plague in this day and age?"

"Leave it to DiNozzo to get a disease out of the Middle Ages," Gibbs agreed.

"Just take it easy on him, okay?" Kate asked. "I know he doesn't like it when you're nice. But he's not exactly himself right now."

Gibbs took a moment to gather his thoughts as he watched her walk down the hallway to where McGee was waiting by the elevator. Her words had reminded him of that moment in autopsy when he had asked DiNozzo if he had inhaled any of the white power. He couldn't remember now the exact words the younger man had used to reply in the affirmative. But he would never forget the way Tony had looked at him, his expression deadly serious and his gaze full of fear.

"Aw hell, DiNozzo."

He had known that his young Agent was unsettled. It was why he had insisted that Kate go with him to be checked out. Sure, her cold had been a concern but if he couldn't be there to watch DiNozzo's back, it had also been a convenient excuse to have her shipped off to Bethesda that was he could at least be sure someone had the younger man's six. The whole team knew how uncomfortable Tony got around anything medical. But when he had been sick, he had faced death and he had _fought_ tooth and nail to hold onto life.

Gibbs didn't think he had ever been prouder of DiNozzo.

He closed his eyes at the memory of how damned _fragile_ his usually athletic senior field Agent had looked when he had first seen him under those harsh blue lights. But Tony had never given up, as weak as he was he had continued to flirt with the nurses and rally sufficiently to complain about the needles, the unflattering lighting, the cut of the pyjamas and the food, all those other things that made him essentially DiNozzo. Still, Gibbs knew he should have seen this coming. It wasn't like there hadn't been _some _signs.

* * *

_Gibbs checked his watch impatiently and lengthened his stride as he made his way down the hallway to DiNozzo's room. He had been held up by a conference call in MTAC and then there had been an accident which closed the off ramp. He knew that Abby had come over as soon as she finished work but he wouldn't be satisfied until he could check on his Agent for himself. When he turned the corner to see the Goth anxiously pacing the hallway with the door to DiNozzo's room firmly closed his chest tightened._

"_Abby?"_

"_Gibbs," She whirled to face him, hands on hips. "Where have you been Mister? You were supposed to be here by 18.30 hours. It's almost 19.00 hours. You're late. You're never late. In fact, you're usually early. Why weren't you early?"_

"_I'm here now," Gibbs pointed out "What's wrong?"_

"_Brad came by to check on Tony," Abby bit her lip nervously. "He said that he wanted to talk to you when you got here. And now he's been in there for almost twenty minutes and I've been out here and sometimes I can hear Tony coughing and you don't think there's anything wrong do you?" Her lip quivered and she threw herself at Gibbs, wrapping her arms around him, so that her next words came out muffled against his chest. "Please, tell me there's nothing wrong?"_

"_I've got a better idea."_

_Gibbs gently turned her around, so she could see that the door to Tony's room was opening as Brad leant out. Seeing as the Doc was smiling he didn't think the news could be anything too bad. _

"_Gibbs, I thought I heard your voice," Brad greeted him, before he turned his attention to the Goth. "Sorry to keep you waiting out here Abby. You guys can come on in now. We're all done with the medical poking and prodding."_

"_How's he doing?"Gibbs asked._

"_Actually, he's doing pretty well," Pitt looked pleased. "His lungs are clearer and his breathing is improving." _

"_Hey," Tony managed weakly, around a watery cough. "He .. is right here."_

"_You lost another tube!" Abby exclaimed delightedly, as she looked over the myriad of equipment. "That mean's you're getting better, right?"_

_"Lost the tube, still taking the medicine," Tony clarified. "Except, now I get to have those little pots of pills."_

_"Is your tongue supposed to be that colour?" Gibbs raised a brow._

_"That was me," Abby piped up. "Well, actually it was the super size Raspberry Slush Puppie. And don't look at me like that Gibbs. Its not like I'm feeding him Caff Pow. Its entirely medicinal."_

_"Medicinal?" Brad looked amused._

_"Its got more calories than those plain ice chips. It'll help make him stronger."_

_"And rot all his teeth." Gibbs remarked._

___Coming around the bed he took a moment to check out his Agent for himself, laying his palm on DiNozzo's forehead as he always did, waiting until Tony met his gaze in acknowledgement of the physical contact, before reluctantly lifting his hand. He knew that the bank of machines monitored his Agent's vital signs and that his hand was a totally unscientific tool for checking on the younger man's temperature, but the action, and the contact, always made him feel better._

_"You're fever's down," He noted."You eat anything today?" _

_"As we speak .. my body is processing a range of vitamins, .. minerals and proteins scientifically .. designed to optimise my nutritional balance." Tony grinned weakly._

_"Uh huh," Gibbs fixed him with a look. "You eat anything you actually needed to chew?"_

_"Those protein things come in soups as well as shakes, that's almost real food. And its not like I'm building up much of an appetite just lying here. I tried .. to interest Nurse .. Emma in some .. physical therapy but .. she .. already has .. a .. boyfriend." Tony coughed._

_Gibbs exchanged a look with Dr Pitt. They both knew that the younger man's body was burning up huge amounts of calories fighting off low grade infections and in the sheer physical effort that it took to clear his lungs when bouts of coughing could leave him soaked with sweat and trembling with sheer exhaustion. But he knew that DiNozzo wouldn't appreciate him pointing that out in front of Abby. So, as he pulled up a chair he settled for a mild rebuke, knowing that the other man would get the message._

_"You need to eat more, Tony."_

_"I know, Boss and I'm trying but nothing tastes good. Its like all my taste buds have been surgically removed," The younger man looked over at Brad. "Do you think that's going to a .. permanent side effect? Because .. if it is I .. might as well .. save money on ... grocery shopping and .. just eat actual .. card .. " The last word was lost in a harsh cough, which caused a flash of panic across DiNozzo's features._

_____"Easy," Brad advised. "Take shallow breaths between the words and let the oxygen work for you."_

_____"Thought .. breathing was supposed to be as natural as breathing." Tony replied after a minute._

_____"It is," Brad allowed. "You just have to relax and keep reminding your body that it knows what its doing."_

_"My Mother used to tell me that when I was two I could get my left foot in my mouth," Tony pointed out. "Just because this body knew how to do something once is no guarantee that it is going to keep on doing it in the future." _

_"You're the one doing all the work. Medically we're not doing anything for you now except provide oxygen and antibiotics. In fact, there's no real reason why you couldn't continue with both of those in a more familiar environment." Brad grinned._

_"You mean .. like at home?" Tony blinked._

_"Well, we'd need to discuss your care regime," Brad qualified. "But so long as we can get that all worked out I can't see any reason not to discharge you."_

_"That's so cool," Abby enthused. "Wait tell I tell the others. I need to start planning. We are going to have the biggest, bestest "Welcome Home Tony" party ever!"_

"_Hold on_,_" Gibbs was more sceptical. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Because he still looks like crap to me."_

"_Gibbs," Abby was offended on DiNozzo's behalf. "That's not nice!"_

_Perhaps it wasn't the most supportive thing he could have said. But looking at DiNozzo, still pale as a ghost, with the only colour in his too thin face, coming from the dark circles under his eyes, Gibbs couldn't believe they were out of the woods yet. Not when that damned nasal canola was a constant reminder of the younger man's need for oxygen and his usually robust appetite was all but non-existent. Not to mention a wet, hacking, cough that haunted Gibbs nightmares._

_"And he's probably going to look that way for a while yet," Brad agreed. "His body has been through a huge physical ordeal. Its going to take time and rest, a gradual build up of physical exertion and good nutrition to get him back on his feet. And he can get all those things just as easily, if not better, at home than being stuck in the Hospital."_

"_Um," DiNozzo looked a little hesitant. "But it's safe, right? I mean, of course it is, you wouldn't be sending me home unless you thought it was safe, right?"_

"_Absolutely," Pitt agreed easily. "If your circumstances were different I might be a little more cautious. But you're a lucky guy. Not many of my patients can call upon the kind of support network you have."_

_"__That's settled then," Abby declared. "Gibbs can take care of Tony like he always does when he's sick or injured. We'll all help and Tony will be all better in no time."_

The scenario had seemed so natural to Gibbs that he had already thinking about how to modify his home to meet DiNozzo's needs. It was only now, looking back, that he realised that for the first time since he had known the younger man, he couldn't recall a single occasion during this Hospital stay when the younger man had tried to sign himself out or even enquired how long it might be until he would be discharged. And when the moment had finally come, DiNozzo's underlying emotion had not been his usual unbridled joy, but a guarded, cautious, _fear_ that it could all go terribly wrong.

Time for Gibbs to step up and set things straight.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't believe it," Abby was protesting to Ducky, as Gibbs stepped back into the small waiting room. "I won't believe it. Tony doesn't want to stay here in the Hospital with its needles and nasty food and starchy sheets. He wants to come home to people who love and care about him."

"My dear," Ducky attempted to comfort her. "I understand your feelings. But please try to understand. Tony has been through a very traumatising experience. It must have been very frightening for someone who likes to be in control to feel so helpless."

"But Tony hates Hospitals," Abby insisted. "And he loves us."

"I only wish it were that simple. However, we must try and think about it from Tony's point of view," Mallard glanced over to include Gibbs in his comments. "He feels betrayed by his own body and this has destroyed his faith in his ability to look after himself. Add to that the fact that he has had to rely on the Hospital staff for everything from his most basic needs to the technology which has kept him alive when his own body could not, is it so surprising that he is a tad reluctant to leave?"

"DiNozzo's been injured before." Gibbs pointed out.

"Indeed, he has," Mallard agreed. "On numerous occasions unless my memory fails me, but I think we would all agree that this has been a rather unique ordeal."

Gibbs jaw tightened at the memories. He couldn't deny that the nights of standing vigil by DiNozzo's bedside had shaken him up some. Just listening to those raw, hacking, coughs, had made his own chest tighten in sympathy at how much it must hurt. Watching the younger man wheeze and gasp as he struggled, eyes wide with fear, to force oxygen into his damaged lungs had been downright terrifying. And the whole damned mess had left a young man whose strength and courage equalled Gibbs' own, limp as a rag doll, his eyes glistening with tears of pain and exhaustion.

"So," Abby rallied, straightening her spine and tossing her pig tails, determined to do her best for her friend. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I think, what we two should do," Mallard pointed out gently. "Is let Jethro handle things."

"Really?" Abby's face crumpled slightly. "But I want to help."

"And I am sure that as soon as our fearless leader has the dear boy comfortably settled at his home then all our assistance will be required to keep our convalescent occupied," Mallard soothed. "But right now you will be helping him best by giving Tony the time and space he needs to come to terms with things. You know Jethro will take good care of him."

"He always does," Abby agreed, as she prepared to leave. "But I want updates, every day."

Gibbs could only hope that his friends faith in him wasn't misplaced. He knew how to handle DiNozzo well enough on the job. And he had done his damndest over the past two years or so to address Tony's aching need for attention and affection, inadvertently helping to heal some of his own wounds along the way as he had another chance to be something of a father figure. No one could deny that that the two men had connected on a very personal level, sometimes seeming to read each others minds, communicate without words, or finish each other's sentences. But this was something way outside of his experience. This was something outside everyone's experience. He sure as hell hoped he wouldn't screw it up.

"Got any advice for me, Duck?" He asked once Abby was out of earshot, uncomfortably aware that he sounded uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"Trust your instincts," Mallard counselled. "They have always seemed remarkably accurate where that boy is concerned. I rather fear that he won't make things easy for you but just remember what he most needs right now is to feel safe and secure. In many ways, left to his own devices Agent DiNozzo is his own worst enemy, I rather think some boundaries will be in order."

"A spot of tough love, hey Duck?"

"Perhaps," Mallard agreed. "Although, you should probably bear in mind that underneath all that bravado he is a rather sensitive young man. Especially, where your good opinion is concerned. Much as our stubborn young charge might rail and fight against any restrictions, he's had a very hard time of things of late. A little kindness and compassion will also work wonders I'm sure."

"Kate already told me to be nice to him."

"As Abigail would say you are always nice, Jethro, in your own way," Mallard patted his shoulder and then fixed him with a steely look. "And now I think you have put off the moment of truth long enough, hmm?"

* * *

Even as he made his way down the hallway to DiNozzo's room, carrying the small holdall and his Agent's winter coat over his arm, part of Gibbs still hoped that he would find DiNozzo waiting impatiently, marshalling his arguments about not wanting a wheelchair to conduct him out of the building, protesting that they didn't need to stop and fill out the prescriptions for his meds, looking forward to the post Hospital rituals of a long hot shower, a real steak dinner and falling asleep in front of some classic DVD on Gibbs' couch, just as they had numerous times before Except, as soon as he paused on the threshold, he knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

DiNozzo's bed was crumpled and empty and the sound of retching was coming from the adjacent bathroom. Gibbs's first reaction was a stab of guilt for leaving the younger man to deal with his demons alone while he wasted time worrying. Pushing those feelings aside, to focus on the problem in hand, he knocked lightly, not waiting for a response before he eased the door open. Tony had finished emptying the almost non-existent contents of his stomach and was sitting on the cold floor, with his back against the tiles, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, his knees drawn up in front of him like a child and his oxygen canister on its small trolley standing sentry beside him.

"Hey." Gibbs greeted him.

"Just .. shoot me now." Tony didn't move.

Gibbs grimaced in sympathy, as he leaned over and flushed the toilet. Without asking he wet a couple of face cloths and placed them on DiNozzo's neck and forehead, before grabbing a handful of tissue and filling a glass of water.

"Here," He held out both items. "Wipe and rinse."

Opening one bloodshot eye, Tony regarded him with active dislike, before accepting the tissue and scrubbing at his mouth. Gibbs didn't blame him, having someone watch over him after he'd just puked his guts up wasn't high his list of favourite things either. He simply waiting patiently, holding out the glass, pleased when DiNozzo rallied enough to accept it from his grasp and rinsed out his mouth, spitting the tainted water into the toilet pan.

"Think you can get up without puking again?" Gibbs wanted to get him off the tiled floor as soon as possible.

"Just .. need a minute." Tony tried to steady his breathing as he put the glass down. "Room's still spinning."

Gibbs used the time to pull a few items out of the holdall, glad that he had decided to go with thick sweats and warm socks. When he had everything laid out ready he went back into the bathroom and tossed the damp face cloths into the sink, before rolling the oxygen canister on its trolley with one arm whilst helping DiNozzo cover the short distance to the bed with the other, noting both the faint tremors still wracking his body and the way his Agent leant heavily into his support.

"Something you ate?" Gibbs asked dryly, when he had his Agent seated on the bed. They both knew DiNozzo hadn't taken enough nourishment these past few days to feed a bird. "Something you didn't eat?"

"I'd blame it on the green jello, but .." Tony gave a wan smile.

Gibbs frowned slightly when nothing more was forthcoming. It wasn't like DiNozzo not to feel driven to fill the silence with words, especially, when he was feeling nervous or anxious. Concerned that the younger man would catch cold he decided to hurry things along a bit. Ducky had told him to trust his instincts and he had never been one to beat about the bush.

"Something bothering you?"

He saw the exact moment when Tony contemplated lying to him. But then the dull green eyes slid away as the younger man was unable to meet his gaze as he dressed the embarrassing truth into a half decent excuse.

"To tell you the truth, Boss, I really don't feel so good."

Gibbs didn't doubt that. For a moment he wondered if he should actually make this easy for DiNozzo and simply suggest that he stayed in Hospital for a few more days. But he knew that would only be postponing the real problem. Dr Pitt was confident that his Agent was well enough to be discharged and, if he was honest with himself, if DiNozzo was going to put himself through the wringer, then Gibbs wanted him underfoot.

"You'll feel better after a hot shower and some decent rest in a real bed." He dismissed Tony's concern's.

"Look Boss," Tony tried to swallow his rising panic as he desperately tried to think of a way to talk his Boss around. "I know Brad would never have suggested discharging me if he didn't think I was ready. He's a buddy as well as my Doctor. Not to mention, he's already written me up in a whole bunch of Medical Journals. I'm like his new science project. He'd get an 'F' on his report card if he killed me off now."

"He thinks you're ready." Gibbs agreed.

"But what if he's wrong? You said yourself I still look like crap. I can't keep anything down. I can barely make it to the bathroom and back and a couple of puffs on that breathing thing and I'm as weak as a kitten. You're always telling me not to rush my rehabilitation. What if I screw this up by trying to go too fast? Brad's a great guy but he won't be doing my NCIS fitness evaluation."

"Spoke to Ducky," Gibbs allowed. "He's all for it."

"No offense, Boss. But Ducky works with dead people. Breathing isn't exactly his specialty," Tony pressed his lips together and put on his most pathetic expression. "But you're right. I should have realised that the first thing you'd do would be ask the good doctor for a second opinion. I guess I'm still really not playing at the top of my game here."

Gibbs thought that was debatable. For someone as sick as DiNozzo still undoubtedly was he was doing his level best to pull out all the stops to get the outcome he wanted. Gibbs knew he had a reputation as a grade 'A' bastard but Tony knew exactly how much of a sucker he could be when the young Agent was sick or hurting. He huffed out a small breath. He had known this wasn't going to be easy. Although, he hadn't expected it to be this hard and they weren't even out of the door yet.

"You expect me to just tuck you back in and walk away?" Gibbs raised the stakes.

"This is the part where I say no, right?" Tony looked at him, his eyes dark and serious as he own tone turned to steel. "But here's the thing, Boss, that is exactly what I want."

"Well that's a damned shame," Gibbs tipped his head on one side. "I've never left a man behind before and I'm not about to start with you."

"And what if I tell you to go to hell?" Tony challenged dangerously.

"Anthony," Gibbs gentle tone as much as the unaccustomed use of his given name was enough to capture his young Agent's full attention. "I know you're scared, but you've made it this far and you've done a hell of a job. But you don't have to do it alone. Let us help you."

"Boss, you don't understand," Tony's angry façade crumbled in the face of the unexpected kindness. "Sure, I'm scared of leaving the Hospital and all the good drugs and the nice machines that can breathe for you when your lungs decide to take a little vacation. But that's only the half of it."

"So tell me the other half."

"This isn't like when I've been shot or something," Tony could feel himself blushing as he forced the words out past the lump in his throat. "I need a lot of help with real personal stuff and let me tell you its embarrassing enough when its Nurse Emma. Frankly, if you had to take of me like that. I know you've survived war zones and everything, but I don't think either of us could ever get past that."


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs blinked, it hadn't even occurred to him that would be a problem. He had known DiNozzo was going to need a high level of personal care until he was back on his feet and he hadn't given the matter a second thought. He should have known better. DiNozzo always tried to do things the hard way. It was just like him to think that even help freely offered would be an imposition.

"Hey," He chose his words carefully, not wanting to screw this up. "Have you ever known me take on a mission without scouting out the lay of the line or gathering all the Intel I could?"

"No, but this isn't exactly a work thing." Tony pointed out.

Gibbs just grinned.

Tony sighed. He really must still be pretty sick to have walked into that one. He'd seen Gibbs approach all manner of things in his life from catching a bad guy, through building a deck, to cooking a roast dinner, as if they were military operations. Why should his convalescence be any different?

"You already talked to Brad and Emma and got all the grim details in glorious Technicolor, didn't you?" He could feel himself blushing, that his Boss knew _those_ kind of things about his care. "And you think you can handle it."

It was on the tip of Gibbs tongue to tell the self-confessed bachelor that once you had changed a baby's diaper there were very few things you couldn't stomach. But he didn't think the proud young man would appreciate the comparism. And reminding his Agent that he had nursed Marine's as they lay mortally injured in his arms was way too close to the bone right now for either of them. So, he simply shrugged.

"You ever know me not to be able to handle you?"

"This isn't going to be a question of making me a home cooked meal, checking I take my meds and letting me use up all your hot water," Tony was earnest. "I still can't walk more than a few steps by myself. Even once I can keep things down I'm going to need this special diet. Someone has to help me with the breathing exercises every day, not to mention my other physical therapy. And you know how bad the nights can be. Basically, Boss, I'm a full time job."

"And that's different how?" Gibbs teased.

"C'mon Boss be serious," Tony shook his head. "It's not like I don't appreciate the offer. I do. I really, really do. But after all this is over we still have to be able to work with one another.

Gibbs wanted to argue, but the determined look in DiNozzo's eyes deterred him. He had honestly thought that the two of them were close enough that Tony would prefer to have him taking care of him than some health professional. But perhaps he had misjudged the situation.

"Is there someone else you wanna call?" He asked quietly. "Your Dad maybe?"

Gibbs knew that DiNozzo and his father weren't all that close. In the Tony had been working for him he had never known the man to come visit and the few things that his Agent had let slip about his childhood did nothing to make Gibbs warm to the elder DiNozzo as a father. But as sick as he was he couldn't blame the kid if he wanted to have his Dad around.

"No," Tony shook his head. He had enough to cope with without having to deal with his father's version of caring. He knew that would only make him feel worse. "That's not what I want."

"Then help me out here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs was exasperated. He was just as sick and tired of all this and he had been looking forward to getting his Agent out of the Hospital. "What the hell do you want?"

"I don't want to be sick anymore!" Tony snapped back. "I just want to be able to take care of everything my .."

However, what ever else he wanted was lost in a sharp intake of breath as the unwarranted exertion triggered a deep, harsh, cough, which caused his eyes to water and his expression to blanch as he knew from experience there was far, far, worse to come.

"Boss!" He managed; not caring if there was an edge of panic in his voice. This was going to be a bad one.

"Easy."

Gibbs' studied calm instantly made Tony feel a little less terrified. Falling into a now well-practised drill, Gibbs reached for a bowl which he positioned in front, as his other hand ran down Tony's spine until he reached the exact right spot and struck firmly with the heel of his hand, three times on each side, loosening the gunk so that Tony could spit up in the bowl. It took a good few minutes until Tony could get his breathing under control, so that even with the nasal canola he felt a little light headed, as he sagged shaking and totally spent against the pillows, closing his eyes tight shut as the cold tears caused by the physical exertion leaked down his face.

"Damn, I hate this." He whispered. "I really, really, hate it."

"C'mon, sit up," Gibbs ordered, helping the younger man regain his balance before making short work of the buttons on his pyjama top and slipping the warm sweatshirt over his head and tucking his arms in. A few moments more and he had replaced the pyjama pants with warm sweats and tucked soft wool socks over each bare foot finished up with a pair of sneakers. "Better?"

"Mmm," Tony agreed, on the edge of exhaustion. "Warmer."

"Good," Gibbs picked up the long winter coat. "Put this on, it's cold out there."

"Huh?" Tony's eyes popped open. "Boss?"

"Not a word, DiNozzo," Gibbs heard the quiver of emotion in his own voice from constantly watching the kid cough his guts up and struggle for breath and covered it with pure fury. "Not a damned word. You don't want to stay with me. I don't care. You are my Agent. That means you belong to me. I'm done giving you a choice about this. You are coming home with me and you are going to let me take care of you until you are well enough to come back to work. You hear me?"

"You can't, hold my hand 24/7," Tony held firm. "Or have you forgotten you've got a team to run and bad guy's to catch."

"That's why I took the damned leave!" Gibbs shot back.

"You took leave?" That brought Tony up short, as his eyes widened in shock. "You never take leave."

The pure shock on his Agent's face took a lot of the anger out of Gibbs tiredness and frustration. He was still mad as hell that DiNozzo couldn't see that he was worth other people's time and attention. But he also needed to spell it out to him that he wasn't an imposition, or a nuisance and or whatever other fool thing the kid had got into his head.

"That's because its been a long time since I had a good enough reason."

"Boss," Tony bit the inside of his cheek as gratitude, exhaustion and an unexpected feeling of warmth and belonging threatened to shatter his fragile emotional control. His own father had never thought that the illness of his only son was a good enough reason to cancel his plans, work or otherwise. "Anyone ever tell you, you're a really nice guy?"

"Not lately." Gibbs grinned. "Put your coat on."

* * *

It wasn't often that Anthony DiNozzo was rendered speechless. But when Gibbs gently nudged him awake and helped him up the pathway into the neat little arts and crafts house he couldn't think of a word to say. Despite feeling somewhat below par, none of the details of his Boss' careful preparations for his homecoming, from the sparkling cleanliness to the supreme sacrifice of putting the boat into moth balls, escaped his notice.

And then there was the chair.

"Oh, that is .. oh," Tony managed. Which he thought was quite eloquent in the circumstances.

"I'm going to make a start on dinner," Gibbs finished helping him out of his coat and hung it up before he turned towards the kitchen. He din't say anything but being well versed in Gibbs various moods, Tony could tell that he was pleased by his Agent's reaction to his gift. "Why don't you take it out for a spin?"

Carefully Tony eased his battered body into the butter soft leather, feeling it caress even around the pointy angles of his too prominent bones. With a little boy smile he flipped open the control panel and began experimenting with the various positions, finally settling on one that allowed him to be comfortable and still keep his chest elevated.

"Here," Gibbs appeared in front of him, holding out a cold beer. "I won't tell Ducky if you don't."

Tony took the beer, desperately wanting the normality it represented. But even a tentative sip felt bitter in his mouth and lay sour and gassy in his stomach. Not wanting to upset his Boss, he simply nursed the bottle, feeling humbled by the lengths Gibbs had gone to in accommodating his invalid state, but wondering if his life would ever be normal and his own ever again.

"Give it time," Gibbs advised, missing nothing as usual. "You only just got out of the Hospital."

"So," Tony gave up on the beer bottle, placing it on the lamp table. "What are you going to do with your leave if you can't work on the boat?"

"Didn't anyone ever just hang out with you when you were a kid?" Gibbs looked at him oddly.

Tony wasn't at all sure how to answer that. Especially, as he was too tried to come up with one of his usual witty retorts and the truthful answer was 'not really'. Judging by the expression on Gibbs' face his hesitation was all the answer his Boss needed.

"So, we're just going to hang out?" Tony asked, as he nestled a little further into the chair. It was _really_ comfy. "No offence, Boss, but I'm not exactly up to shooting hoops and small talk isn't your thing."

"It's not going to be a problem."

"It's not?" Tony felt his eyes drooping but forced himself to focus on his Boss as a really, really, important question occurred to him. "Why? Did you buy a second TV?"

"Nope, its not like you'd be awake often enough to watch it," Gibbs stood up. "C'mon, I'll help you to the bathroom, before you're asleep in that chair."

"That's OK," Tony started to lever himself up out of the chair. "I can manage."

The former Marine bit back his sharp retort. Sometimes, DiNozzo was too much like him for his own good. He had spent all morning trying to convince Gibbs that he was too weak to leave the Hospital and now here he was acting like he was indestructible. Gibbs was torn between wanting to head slap some sense into him or scooping him up and simply carrying him to the bathroom. But knowing that this was one lesson he was going to have to learn for himself, Gibbs forced himself to step back and wait.

Gibbs was sure that it was hard for DiNozzo to struggle to his feet. Every careful movement and trembling muscle spoke of the effort involved. The thin sheen of sweat on his brow and damp pooling between his shoulder blades was testament to his exertion. But it was almost as hard for him to watch, as the young man finally stood on shaking limbs, taking one, two, three, hesitant steps, before he began to fall.

"You even try that again and I'll kick your ass," Gibbs warned, as he caught the younger man and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, taking most of his weight, as they made their way down the hallway. "You hear me?"

"Yes sir." Tony sighed dejectedly. "I just don't want to be a burden."

"Hey," Gibbs stopped dead and turned his Agent around a little so that they were face to face, pushing DiNozzo back so he could brace his body against the wall and get right up into his personal space. "You listen to me and you listen good. You are not a burden. I brought you into my home because I that's what I wanted to do and I_ am _going to do _everything_ it takes to get you back on your feet, no matter what. So, I don't want to here you disrespecting my decision again. Do you understand me?"

The myriad of emotions, which flickered across DiNozzo's face was proof enough that he hadn't been thinking in terms of how Gibbs might be feeling about the situation. Truth be told Gibbs hated the fact that he couldn't just tell the bright, eager, young man, how important he really was and the lengths gives would truly go to ensure his welfare. But he knew that wasn't a conversation DiNozo was ready for yet. When the younger man pressed his lips together and mutely nodded an affirmative, Gibbs patted his face. He knew better than to think it was going to be easy from now on it. But maybe it was a start.

"Um, Boss," Predictably, DiNozzo was already shifting slightly under his hand. "Are we done here?"

"Something bothering you?" Gibbs arched a brow.

"It's just," Tony made a face. "I really need to go to the bathroom."


	5. Chapter 5

AN – Just wanted to say thanks to everyone enjoying this, working to kind of a deadline here as work gets super busy from tomorrow. And many thanks to Jen LG for the quick beta.

* * *

"Cough, cough, _cough._"

Gibbs bit back a groan of dismay as he rolled over and turned on the light, blinking bleary eyed at the red digital display on his alarm clock. 03.16. That meant less than two hours sleep since the last time. Sitting up and pulling his legs over the edge of the bed, he knew they couldn't keep going on like this. As a Marine he had been used to going without sleep when the situation demanded. But he wasn't as young as he used to be and none of this was doing DiNozzo a damn bit of good.

"Cough, _cough,_ COUGH!"

Pulling himself to his feet and padding on autopilot towards the spare room, Gibbs no longer even paused to take in the pathetic state of his senior field agent. He just took up his position, hitching a hip on the left hand side of the bed, so that he could steady the bowl with one hand and pound on the fragile back with the other. For his part, the only acknowledgement Tony gave of his routine arrival was to gladly surrender the bowl, leaving the younger man's hands free to tightly clench the bedclothes, balling them in his fists as he fought with his own body.

"COUGH, COUGH, _COUGH._"

Tony made a strangled sound, part despair, part relief, as he finally finished expelling the worst of it and could sink back boneless against the pillows. Ducky had suggested installing a hospital style bed, so that Tony's chest could be kept elevated during sleep. But Gibbs himself had dismissed that idea, wanting to keep things as normal as possible. Instead, he had set about building a wooden A shaped-frame that worked like a back rest when placed in a normal bed and could be easily raised and lowered as needed.

"Here," Gibbs set the bowl aside for the moment and picked up the oxygen mask, placing it over Tony's nose and mouth. "Breathe."

The fact that Tony didn't complain, didn't protest, or even make a face was evidence of how exhausted he was. Pitt had told them that, so long as he didn't try to over do things, he should only need the oxygen when he was sleeping. Even so, Tony had been less than pleased to go back to the simpler to fix but bulkier mask after getting used to relying on the lighter tubing. Still, Gibbs knew he had to make sure DiNozzo's colour had improved before he put his plan into action.

It took longer than he would have liked and the sight of the usually vibrant ball of energy, lying there so utterly spent tugged at Gibbs' heart. Wanting, _needing_ to do something other than just sit there and watch he picked up a lax hand and rubbed his thumb reassuringly across the back of it. Not really expecting a reaction, the soft smile that tugged at DiNozzo's lips caught him unawares, as did the way the long fingers curled around, capturing his own.

"Always .. got .. my six." Tony breathed softly.

"Yeah, about that," Gibbs took refuge in action, Tony looked up at him curiously as he pulled back the covers. "Take it easy let me do all the work."

Helping the younger man to sit upright, it was an easy thing to put him over his shoulder, steadying the prone figure with one hand whilst he snagged the oxygen canister with the other. Straightening up, he almost toppled over when he overcompensated for the younger man's weight. Gibbs made a mental note to check Pitt's nutrition sheet and see if he could stock up on Ben and Jerry's and steak. DiNozzo definitely needed a good steak.

"Boss," Tony's fingers sleepily probed the edge of the blankets as Gibbs laid him back down, pushing aside the mask so he could talk. "This is your bed."

"Touch that again and I'll break your fingers."

Gibbs threat was without heat and he nonetheless put the mask back in place, as he covered Dinozzo up, before returning for the custom built frame. Setting the younger man as comfortably as he could in his bed he manfully resisted the urge to tuck him in. Instead, he went and took care of the mess in the bowl, hating the necessity of putting it ready, next to a full glass of water, on the night stand. Still, he should have thought of this before. At least, this way he wouldn't have to walk so far and his room had a bathroom attached. Climbing back into the other side of the bed, he turned off the light.

"Keep waking you," Tony mumbled. "M'sorry."

"Not like we have anything special to get up for in the morning," Gibbs pointed out not unkindly. "Try and get some rest."

* * *

"_Arggggh"_

The digital display on the alarm clock had just flicked over to 04.27 when Gibbs woke yet again, this time with a rush of adrenaline that had him instinctively reaching for the knife in his drawer before he flipped over onto his back, ready to confront whatever the hell was attacking and obviously killing, his senior field agent. He had seen DiNozzo in all manner of life threatening situations and he had never _ever_ heard such a sound of pure and utter terror emanating from the younger man.

"_DiNozzo_!"

Blinking in the darkness he quickly realised that there was no actual external threat. Taking a moment to switch on the light, (and put down the knife), he sat up swiftly checking the young man over for any signs of injury or blood. Tony sitting bolt up right soaked in sweat as, despite the oxygen mask on his face, his breath came in deep gulping sobs of air until he was on the verge of hyperventilating. The other thing Gibbs noticed was that his eyes were still firmly shut. Gibbs closed his eyes briefly in relief, just a nightmare. Still, it must have been one hell of a nightmare to make DiNozzo act that way.

"DiNozzo!" He seized a convenient shoulder. "Hey! Wake up!"

Afterwards, he would acknowledge that he knew better. He had seen enough cases of men wracked by their demons to know that wasn't the best way to wake up people in the throes of a nightmare. But the fear that his young agent was being murdered still coursed through his veins. And the stress and exhaustion of the past several days was bound to catch up with him at some point. So, he took the most direct route, shaking the young man firmly until DiNozzo's eye's popped open, barely reacting in time to block the unexpected fist that came his way.

"Hey Tony, settle down," he commanded, as he easily captured the clenched fist, glad that the punch had lacked DiNozzo's usual strength, he really didn't want to hurt him and right now he wasn't even sure the other man could hear him, as he continued to struggle as much as his strength would allow, in his grasp. In despair he raised his voice to a parade ground bark. "DiNozzo, stand down!"

"Boss?" The younger man's struggles stilled but his tremors increased. "Lung's won't .. can't breathe."

"The hell you can't, Look, at me. DiNozzo," Gibbs countered gruffly. Hardening his tone when the young agent din't react. _"I Said Look At Me_."

DiNozzo turned his head and Gibbs was shocked by the stark terror in those green eyes. Accustomed to nightmares of his own the former Marine had never bought into the idea that talking about them could make them any better. In his book that just dredged up the fear and pain all over again. But that didn't mean he was a man without compassion. He knew more than most what it was like to be at the mercy of your feelings.

"Just breathe, Tony," He coached, now that he had the younger man's attention, his voice was impossibly gentle. "In and out. Atta boy."

"Dreamt .. like .. Keanu .. Reeves.. Matrix." Tony gasped out.

Gibbs frowned, recalling Tony's wide eyed enthusiasm as he had dragged him to a movie theatre to watch The Matrix. Focusing on the plot he tried to think what could have got Tony so damned terrified. His own blood ran cold as he recalled the scene in interrogation with Mr Smith when Neo's mouth was sealed up. It had been uncomfortable for Gibbs to even _watch_, he couldn't imagine what DiNozzo must be feeling after his subconscious had convinced him _that_ was what was happening to his body.

"It's alright."

Gibbs instinctively fell into a familiar pattern, a father banishing the monsters, using his hand on DiNozzo's shoulder to rub small, soothing circles on his back. Tony gave a shallow, hitching breath that was almost but not quite a sob even as he did his damndest to straighten up and pull away as if there was _anything_ he could do right now to convince either of them he was really 'fine'.

"C'mere."

Gibbs didn't feel the least bit remorseful as he used his greater physical strength to pull the bashful young man up against his chest and hold him tight, resting his chin on the damp curls. Barely noticing and certainly not caring about the stink and wetness of the rapidly cooling sweat. He would bet his boat no-one had comforted DiNozzo like this n far too long. And if he was honest with himself he needed the physical contact just as much to convince himself his boy was here and alive. Judging by the way DiNozzo finally relaxed in his arms, he figured he'd made the right call.

"I got you." Gibbs murmured softly into the dark hair. "I got you."

* * *

Just after the weak dawn light began filtering through the bedroom curtains Tony's eyes blinked open to a number of uncomfortable realisations.

The first was that the last thing he remembered was lying exhausted, soaked in his own sweat, and almost incoherent as he sagged in his boss' embrace. Even in his weakened state a small part of his mind still recognised that _was_ pretty embarrassing. Although, the fact that Gibbs hadn't seemed bothered by anything but making him feel better, _cared for_, safe, was pretty nice now he came to think about it.

The second thing, as he stretched out slightly, was that he was presently dressed in a clean, comfortable t-shirt and pair of cotton boxers. Screwing up his face a little, he braced himself to check the logo on the shirt, wincing slightly when he confirmed that it was one of Gibbs' own. And since he didn't own any cotton boxers he didn't need to be a crack shot investigator to work out what had happened, although, if he had needed it, the scent of Old Spice soap was his third clue.

He tried to tell himself to suck it up and be a man. Gibbs would have been crazy to let him sleep in sweat soaked clothes against his rapidly cooling skin. Apart from being just 'icky', seeing as they were sharing a bed, Tony was pretty sure neither man needed to hear _another_ lecture from Brad or Ducky about the dangers of catching just about any sick bug in his present condition. It was simply a medical necessity that Gibbs had stripped him down and sponged him off. That was all. He supposed he could, at least, be grateful that he had at least been asleep at the time.

The third, rather more annoying thing, was the now familiar tickle in the back of his throat. Automatically, he rolled his head to the left to check that the bowl was within easy reach. So far things didn't seem so bad. A few sips of water might be enough to head off the coughing. But as he reached out clumsily Tony knocked the full glass onto the carpet, where it landed with a soft 'thunk' its cool, clear, contents trickling away like a small river, which firmly focused his attention on the fourth and final problem.

His bladder ached with a feeling of fullness that was quickly becoming a _very_ pressing need. Tony gritted his teeth and tried to control his body by sheer force of will. But his cough continued to build and his bladder still demanded relief. He knew that if he gave the coughing jag time to take hold of him he would never be able to retain control of such a full bladder. He didn't want to wake Gibbs again. But he didn't much like the alternatives either. Longingly, he looked at the open door to Gibbs bathroom.

It was only a few small steps. Surely, he could make that, without needing to wake his boss, yet again? He could use the bathroom and refill his glass with water, soothing his cough, Gibbs would be none the wiser, and they could both get another hour or so of sleep before they had to face the day. Putting the oxygen mask aside he told himself that he was moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb Gibbs, nothing to do with his boss' prior warning echoing to "kick your ass." in his head. The wooden floor in the lounge room had been slippery, that was all. He'd be fine on the carpet, there and back before Gibbs ever noticed he was gone.

* * *

This time it was the unmistakeable crash of shattering glass that jerked Gibbs awake. Only to find that his senior field agent was no longer lying in the bed beside him, but laid out deathly still on the bathroom floor, next to a small pool of blood. For a second Gibbs could swear his heart actually stopped. As the former Marine stripped back the covers and sprang to his feet Tony gasped, tipped his head back and surrendered to yet another bout of heart wrenching coughs. Not that Gibbs was in any mood to see anything but a deep, crimson, furious, red.

"What the _hell_ did you think you were doing?" He roared.

Right now he didn't much care that DiNozzo couldn't answer him. He wasn't even really that interested in the fact that the young man flinched and curled in on himself, in the face of his obvious wrath. Right now, his stubborn, stupid damn near _suicidal_, senior field agent was damned lucky that he didn't just take out his gun and shoot him where he lay for being such a Class A idiot. Putting his hands under DiNozzo's armpits he hauled him, non too gently, to a sitting position and propped him against the bathroom wall.

Almost growling in his frustration, he concentrated on the practicalities. Wrap the bleeding hand in a towel, elevate it and tie it off across the man's chest. Fetch the bowl and work by rote through the drill to loosen the gunk in his agent's lungs, before flushing that all away. Clear up the glass to prevent further injury. Toss a blanket over the shaking body as he went to fetch the first aid kit to check and bind the wound. All without once looking at his patient never mind making any eye contact.

In his fear and anger he didn't notice the acrid smell, or the puddle or urine on the bathroom floor until it was far too late to say or do the right thing.


	6. Chapter 6

"Alright," Gibbs stood in his kitchen and surveyed the range of permitted breakfast offerings. "I could do you some grilled white fish or maybe some cold cereal?" He knew he still had some of that Captain Crunch stuff from the last time DiNozzo had stayed over. He didn't bother mentioning the oatmeal. He was trying to pick things off Brad's nutritional plan that he knew Tony might actually eat. "What do you think?"

"I'm fine," Tony wouldn't look at him. "But you go right ahead."

"You need to eat something," With a supreme effort Gibbs avoided pointing out that his agent was obviously anything but fine. "You didn't have anything last night except a few spoonfuls of soup. How about I make you an omelette?"

"Please, don't go to any trouble on my account."

Gibbs held on to the last thread of his patience with an effort. Without Tony taking the proper nutrition they would quickly find themselves back in the Hospital. Not much caring if his agent liked it or not, Gibbs pulled out a sachet of the protein drink and dumped it in the blender, before adding milk, and pouring the resulting mixture into a plastic beaker. The last thing he needed was DiNozzo cutting himself again.

"Here," He presented the flavoured gloop. "It's the strawberry one. You said that at least smelled like actual food."

"Are you all out of sippy cups?" DiNozzo scowled at the plastic beaker before he placed it pointedly aside. "Don't worry I'll try real hard not to spill."

Gibbs wanted to see the sarcasm as an improvement over the 'stepford Tony' that he had helped wash and dress and bring into the lounge room. It had been awkward enough cleaning and dressing Tony's hand with the young man sitting straight as a ramrod and refusing to look at him, or speak in more than monosyllables, as his face burned with embarrassment. Having to help the younger man out of the soiled clothes and into the shower had been difficult for both of them.

Especially when DiNozzo has started muttering some nonsense about paying for the stinking items when Gibbs had absentmindedly tossed them straight in the trash. He had been more worried about DiNozzo than his wardrobe. But as usual his young agent had his priorities all backwards and was more concerned about a few scraps of cotton than his own welfare. Gibbs could see his yelling hadn't helped matters much but he'd been tired and angry and frustrated that the younger man was always so damned cavalier about his own health and well being.

"Your orders still stand," Gibbs decided to nip the attitude in the bud. "You need help, you're supposed to ask for it, or I'll want to know the reason why."

"Its not like I asked to be here," Tony reminded him. "In fact, I distinctly remember asking not to be here."

"Yeah well, suck it up," Gibbs was all out of sympathy. "That's two times I should already kick your ass for acting like a damned idiot. You want to go for the third strike I promise you won't like the consequences."

"Are you gonna make me run laps?" Tony raised a brow. "Because that'll end real well, I don't think."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gibbs demanded. DiNozzo was sometimes irritating and occasionally he let his mouth or his actions run away with him. But he didn't usually have this much trouble following orders and he was never this disrespectful, unless he was dealing with bad guys, politicians or the FBI, certainly not Gibbs. "Are you _trying_ to get me to cut you loose? Is that it?"

"No, its not that," Tony scrubbed at his face as he tried for reasonable. "Look, Boss, it's different at work, I know, I still have a lot to learn and sometimes you have to kick my ass. But that's okay because it's all about making me a better agent. This isn't work and it feels more like, I don't know, just because you can."

Gibbs considered that and wondered, not for the first time, what kind of a family life Tony had had growing up to make him so damned clueless about any of this.

"You don't think I could care about making you a better person maybe?"

"Maybe," Tony looked hesitant. "I suppose I was kind of hoping you liked the person I already am."

_Aw hell_

Gibbs took a deep breath as he realised just how badly he had screwed this up. Just because DiNozzo followed his lead as an agent and an investigator, didn't mean the younger man hadn't still got some deeper trust issues. And they were exactly the type of problems that were bound to come to the surface in spades after the fiercely independent young agent had been forced to rely so much on the kindness of others. Gibbs was tempted to give Ducky or Abby a call to see if they had any advice. Or better still, hand off the younger man into their care. But that was the coward's way out. This was his mess it was up to him to fix it. Settling himself on the coffee table so he was directly opposite the younger man, he tapped him gently on the knee to get his attention when Tony's eyes slid awkwardly away.

"C'mon Tony. Look at me. I'm not gonna bite."

It was his Boss' tone as much as the conciliatory words that encouraged Tony to bring his gaze back around. It was what Tony had privately labelled his 'teaching mode' a uniquely patient Gibbs, who was willing to share his experience and acknowledge his subordinate's abilities on a 'man to man' basis. It always made Tony feel special that Gibbs figured he was worth taht much of his time and attention.

"Look, I'll admit, I over reacted and I _am_ sorry about that," Gibbs gaze was sincere. "But you've got start taking more care of yourself. When I woke out and saw you laid out on the floor in a pool of blood, it scared the crap outta me."

"C'mon Boss," Tony looked about as awkward as he felt. "You're a Marine. You don't do scared."

"You think I've never been scared, Tony?" Gibbs shook his head. "You think I wasn't scared the day I married Shannon? Or the first time I had to look after Kelly by myself? You remember when Abby was rushed to the Hospital with appendicitis? I was scared then. And you turn my hair grey on an almost daily basis. Gotta tell you though, this last one was something special."

"Yeah well," Tony's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I like to be original."

"You were scared too," Gibbs spoke softly. "Still are."

"Who me?" Tony squirmed. He appreciated what Gibbs was trying to do but he wasn't ready to talk about this. He wasn't even ready to think about it. "I mean, okay, you can't blame a guy for being a little nervous. Those medieval diseases come with all kinds of unpleasant side effects, what with the black spots and nasty pus filled lumps in _really _embarrassing places."

"That's bubonic plague not pneumonic," Gibbs fixed him with a quelling look. "Are you saying you weren't scared?"

"Yeah," Tony admitted. "I was. Am. Probably will be for a while."

"Something like this, takes time to get over it," Gibbs counselled. "But you'll get there."

Tony gave him a sharp look. Not quite sure if he could trust the utter certainly in his Boss' tone. But he saw nothing but conviction in his expression. Tony immediately felt slightly better. He'd never imagined that convalescent could seem almost worse than the disease. It was just all so damned frustrating, and humiliating and not to mention he was so sick and tired of being sick and tired. But if Gibbs thought he could get though it maybe he could.

"You ordered me not to die," Tony reflected quietly. "I mean, I really thought this might be it. I wasn't going to get to go out in a blaze of glory. No saving the world for me. Just some blue lights and a pair of pyjamas with this weird piping on them. And then you came in and just ordered me not to die."

It had been the depth of feeling as much as the words themselves. To be wanted, to be needed that much by another human being, wasn't something Anthony DiNozzo had ever been used to.

"That order still stands." Gibbs picked up the protein drink and held it out. "So, finish your breakfast."

Tony gave him a look but accepted the cup willingly enough, taking one swallow and then another, only to spark off another coughing fit, which had him flailing widely as he tried blindly to put the cup down, as his face got redder from the exertion. With a long suffering sigh, Gibbs snagged the beaker out of his hand and picked up the nearest bowl, pounded on the younger man's back until he got his breathing back under control.

"Blah," Tony managed when he was done, giving the gunk in the bowl a disgusted look and colouring slightly when he realised it was a particularly nice glazed, ceramic bowl. He tried to imagine his father's reaction if he had spit up into one of his Antiques. Glancing sheepishly up at Gibbs, he saw nothing but concern Offering the bowl back, he gave a wan smile. "Um, sorry about that."

Resolving to be a better patient, Tony picked up the beaker again without being asked. Gibbs was already going above with everything he had done, opening up his home like this. It was time he got his act in gear, got his head out of his ass and did everything he could to get himself out of his Boss' hair ASAP. Even so, he hesitated, knowing what was to come, debating whether he should hold his nose, before he decided to just bite the bullet. Screwing up his face in anticipation of the foul taste he was surprised when the beaker was plucked out of his hand.

"Hell, DiNozzo, it can't be _that_ bad."

Without missing a beat, Gibbs took a healthy swallow. Only to discover that the unpleasantly thick liquid was sickly sweet, with a chalky aftertaste which made even him want to gag. With an effort he managed to stop his disgust from showing in his expression, but Tony still grinned at him with the knowing look of a man who knew exactly what he was going through.

"Sucks doesn't it?"

"I'll make pancakes," Gibb decided taking the beaker with him to wash that _stuff_ down the sink, as he tossed over his shoulder. "And you are going to eat at least one if I have to put it through the blender."

* * *

Tony's resolution to be the ideal house guest, most patient patient and good little agent all rolled into one lasted for all of the rest of that day. Of course, it was made a little easier by the fact that he did almost nothing but sleep and sip on various liquid style meals. By dinnertime though, he was beginning to feel a _little_ restless.

"Thump, _thump_, thump." Pause. "Thump, _thump_, thump." Pause "Thump, thump, thump." Pause. Thump .."

"Hey!"

"Bored much, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he inspected the brightly coloured rubber ball now safely in his hands, before popping up on the shelf. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play ball in the house?"

"It's not like I can move or stand or even stay awake long enough to do anything interesting. Besides, you're the one who had a catcher's mitt stashed under the coffee table," Tony waggled his gloved hand, as Exhibit "A", as he tipped back in the recliner. "If it's good enough for Steve McQueen its good enough for me."

"Is that so?" Gibbs hid his grin.

"Not that your house is anything like a prison camp, Boss," Tony hastily backtracked. "Because its not. It has much better furniture for a start and the walls are painted a really nice colour and .."

"Time to do your breathing exercises, Virgil," Gibbs reminded him, as he collected together the equipment. "No more than ten minutes."

"Right," Tony visibly tensed as he took the plastic orb into which he was required to breathe. He knew they were important but that didn't change the fact that they hurt. "Um, you're not going to stand there and watch are you?"

"Some body has to make dinner around here," Gibbs excused himself. Truth be told he had been planning on standing over the young man. DiNozzo still tried easily and the exercises were hard work. But he figured they both needed a bit of space and he could still listen from the kitchen to be sure didn't try to overdo things. "I'll be over here."

Gibbs tried to distract himself by taking the chicken breasts out of the refrigerator and rinsing them off, before putting them on a tray and popping them in the oven. But the painful, wheezing, gasps, interspersed with thin coughs were hard to ignore. Boiling the kettle, he poured the hot water into a pan, waiting until it was bubbling before adding the plain rice. The cabbage was chopped a little finer than strictly necessary as the painful sounds continued. Frowning to himself slightly, he re-filled the kettle and put it back onto boil, before rummaging around in a high, long unused cupboard until he found a small, blue jar.

"You about done?" He asked a few minutes later.

Tony cracked one eye open from where he was lying back on the recliner, too tried by his recent exertions to even try and look like he was doing alright. Looking at the bowl in Gibbs hands and the towel over his arm, he sniffed experimentally and his expression turned wary.

"Please don't tell me you're expecting me to drink that, it smells like my Aunt Violet."

"C'mere," Gibbs place the bowl on the coffee table and helped the younger man move so that he was sitting on the couch. "Put your head over the bowl."

Looking dubious, Tony leant forward and gave a cautious sniff.

"Whoa!" He jerked his head back. "That's strong stuff!"

"It'll do you good," Gibbs insisted, as he encouraged the younger man to lean forward again with a pointed look. As Tony slowly complied, he draped the towel around his head and shoulders, creating a small tent, to enclose the medicated steam. "Breathe deep and don't move until I tell you."

"Actually, this is kinda nice," Tony's muffled voice commented after a moment. "I bet it's good for the pores too."

"DiNozzo."

"Breathing not talking got it Boss."


	7. Chapter 7

To Gibbs blessed relief the breathing exercises combined with the medicated steam were enough to lull DiNozzo into the first real sleep he had had since he left the Hospital, so that by the time dinner was ready his young agent was sufficiently well rested to sit up at the kitchen table and eat with him.

"Boss," Tony was startled when he realised that Gibbs' plate of chicken and rice with a side serving of finely chopped white cabbage was just as bland as his own. He decided not to comment on the fact that his meal had already been cut into bite sized pieces. "This isn't right. You shouldn't have to be eating this stuff."

"Something wrong with my cooking?"

"You know what I mean," Tony protested. "At least, you could have some sauce on yours or something. There's no reason for us both to suffer."

"Is that what you think?" Gibbs gave him an unreadable look.

"Well, sure," Tony continued, although, Gibbs was pleased to see he looked just a little less sure of himself. "I mean, just think of the choices you could have, there's pizza, with sausage and extra cheese, or Chinese, lemon chicken, beef in black bean sauce, anything with shrimp in it, or maybe Hamburgers, with bacon, lots of bacon or Philly cheese steak or corndogs."

"So, I just sit here and tuck in while you suffer in silence?" Gibbs raised a brow.

"Well, maybe not exactly in silence," Tony couldn't pretend it would be easy to watch Gibbs eating real food, that he literally couldn't stomach. "But yeah, you should eat what you want. Its not like you're the one who's sick."

Gibbs pushed down the surge of irritation he always felt when DiNozzo said anything so damned clueless. Reminding himself that it wasn't his fault that he had so little idea of how these things were supposed to work. Glancing across at the still pale and gaunt young man Gibbs couldn't help but wonder what the hell DiNozzo's father had been thinking leaving his only son so much to his own devices both during his childhood and more especially now.

"I'm still your partner," Gibbs tried to explain his actions in a way he thought Tony would understand. "And this is what I want to eat."

"Eating cabbage is your way of having my six?" Tony still looked a little confused.

"One of 'em," Gibbs allowed.

The team lead quickly finished up and put his plate in the sink, settling in to sip his coffee as Tony slowly worked his way through about a third of his meal before admitting defeat. As Gibbs dealt with the remainder of the dishes, he smiled to hear DiNozzo start lightly drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, taking the small surfeit of energy as a noteworthy step on the road to recovery.

"How can you live without a TV up here?" Tony broke the silence. "You know, some of those cop shows have some amazing cases, not to mention hot lady detectives who can really kick ass and really cool cars. I could get Probie to bring round some DVDs if you like?"

"Already have something else in mind."

It took a few moments to get Tony settled back in the recliner, and to bring together the few things Gibbs needed, his coffee, his reading glasses, a mug of the warm milk for DiNozzo and a dog eared paperback.

"You made me warm milk?" Tony looked at the mug as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Ducky said it would be good for you," Gibbs sat back on the couch. He had added cinnamon for flavour and honey to give it the sweetness DiNozzo preferred. "Try it."

"I've had it before," Tony scowled. "Just not since I was eight."

It was bad enough that his Boss had been forced to take care of his physical needs, but at a push he could kind of see the impact of Y-Pestis as a work related injury a bit like Dr Elrich's 'magic bullet' but in reverse. And Tony was grateful for that. It wasn't as if Gibbs hadn't been a good CO and kicked his ass until he was fit for field duty in the past. He had never made him warm milk before. Tony was pretty sure that senior field agents did not drink warm milk.

"You'll eat Captain Crunch but you think warm milk is for kids?" Gibbs teased.

Tony tipped his head curiously to one side at the easy going tone. That wasn't his Boss talking. That wasn't even his mentor, willing to teach, or his partner, wanting to have his six. This was _Gibbs_. Out of the office, at home, being .. a friend. The realisation came as something of a surprise. It wasn't as if Tony had done anything to earn the other man's respect lately, quite the opposite in fact, and yet here Gibbs was acting like he was actually pleased to have him hanging around.

"I was never allowed Captain Crunch when I was an actual kid, so I figure I'm just making up for lost time," Tony volunteered, always willing to push the boundaries a little further where Gibbs was concerned. "But my mother used to make me warm milk sometimes."

"You like it?"

"Yeah," Tony smiled a soft smile at the memories, he had always enjoyed the way the gesture made him feel loved and cared for as much as the drink itself. "It was always good."

"So?" Gibbs raised a brow at him. "Drink it before it gets cold."

Tony was already gulping obediently at the warm drink, before he even realised what he was doing. It seemed like senior field agents did drink warm milk when their Boss ordered them to. It shouldn't really surprise him. Following Gibbs' instructions was as automatic and familiar to him as breathing. Or rather like breathing used to be back in the day.

It made him feel safe.

Cared for.

Noticed.

"I never had this after my mother died," He reflected. "Sometimes, if they weren't too busy the staff would make me hot chocolate."

Damn, Gibbs felt a sharp shaft of sympathy as he worked out that meant DiNozzo had lost his mother when he was eight. That was much younger than he had imagined. He remembered how hard it had been when his own mother had died and he had had a good few years on DiNozzo and a father whom, despite their differences, Gibbs realised had always tried to do right by his boy. He thought of Kelly at that age with her bright smile and joy in life and tried to imagine DiNozzo growing up without a Mother.

"Must have been hard."

"Not as much as you'd think," Tony smiled a little too brightly for Gibbs' comfort for the glib response to be the whole truth. "One of the perks of being wealthy is that there's always someone else around to raise your child, I had nannies and boarding school, summer camp and before you know it, time for Junior to head off to College."

Gibbs carefully didn't smile. He had known from DiNozzo's jacket that his father was Anthony DiNozzo senior but he'd never though much about it. Gibbs wondered how someone as unique as his senior field agent felt about the name. The former marine had never really minded being named after LJ. He had been a good man. He was pretty sure things between him and his Dad were strained at best.

"Junior?"

"Can we just pretend that I didn't say that out loud?"

"Works for me."

Gibbs took a swallow of his coffee, trying to tell himself that the question he wanted to ask was none of his damned business. He had always tried to respect his people's personal privacy. He was damned sure he wanted them to do the same for him. DiNozzo had no such computation, it was one of the things that made him a good investigator, but at least he could tell the kid to poke his nose out if he wanted to. He knew that if he asked the question, DiNozzo's personal code of loyalty and obedience would force him to answer.

And knowing that, the investigator in him, asked anyway, o_ne rule for you Gunny and another for everyone else_ he mocked himself. Sometimes he really did live up to that second B.

"Your Dad around much?"

"Not as much as you'd think," This time Tony struggled to hold onto even the facade of glibness. "He was always pretty busy with work and he travelled a lot. Then there was the succession of rich divorcees which took a lot of his time and attention. I had more than your average number of step-mothers growing up."

"You don't have any siblings." Gibbs knew that much.

"Dad's taste tended more to the high maintenance type, the sort of trophy wife that wouldn't want to mar her plastic perfection with stretch marks," Tony glanced down thoughtfully into his mug. "He was never very interested in having kids around if it wasn't for the whole carrying on the family name 'son and heir' thing I might start to wonder if I was actually a mistake."

Gibbs clenched his jaw tightly. He couldn't imagine having something as precious as a child and not making them feel as if they were the centre of your world. A familiar, sharp guilt reminded him that he had left his sobbing daughter to go and serve his country. But he pushed that thought firmly away. It wasn't the same. He had been doing his duty and Kelly had always known that her parents loved her. He wasn't at all sure that even with all his wealth and privilege DiNozzo had ever had that kind of security.

"He _never _spent any time with you?" Gibbs almost growled.

"Sure he did," Tony quickly backpedalled at the depth of ire in his Boss' tone, as if suddenly feeling he had revealed a little too much. "We had a couple of great vacations when he was between wives and then there were always the weekends at Civil War re-enactments."

"Where you carried the latrine bucket," Gibbs scoffed. "Bet that was a whole barrel of fun."

"It was a chance to spend time with him," Tony drained his mug. "My father isn't the easiest man to know. He's one of these people who talks a whole lot but never really says very much at all. You know the type, Boss?"

"Oh yeah," Gibbs felt no amusement at the irony of Tony's question. "I'm pretty familiar with that type."

"I'll bet your Dad was a really good guy, the kind who would always be taking you hunting and fishing and things." Tony sounded wistful.

"Never much cared for fishing," Gibbs answered without answering. "And he never let me lay a finger on his rifle."

"Is that why you became a Marine sniper?"

Gibbs smiled at his agent's hopeful question, as he rose and headed into the kitchen to re-fill his mug. Feeling Tony's eyes track his movements he knew better than to think DiNozzo would let this go. Where Gibbs was concerned the younger man's interest went beyond simple curiosity, he took every little nugget of information as a token of the trust and friendship between them. Most of the time Gibbs could ignore the puppy dog eyes, but every now and again, it seemed only fair to throw him a bone. People thought that DiNozzo followed him blindly. Gibbs knew better and the younger man wasn't the type to continue to trust if he didn't feel that he was trusted in return. Walking back to the couch he decided on a workable compromise.

"You get three questions, starting now."

"Really?" Tony positively lit up. "I can ask anything I like?"

"Yup," Gibbs gave a tight grin. "Two left."

"Boss, that's not fair," Tony groused, only to settle down when Gibbs gave him a look. "Alright, just give me a minute. I need a minute."

Gibbs hid his smile behind a gulp of his coffee, as Tony screwed up his face, apparently deep in thought.

"Okay, I've got two questions. Are you ready? Do _not_ answer that, because that was a rhetorical question it was _not_ a question, question."

"Give it your best shot." Gibbs grinned, deciding to cut the kid a little slack. He had been pretty sick after all.

"OK, question numero uno," Tony put on a voice that Gibbs figured must be supposed to sound like a game show host. "Where is Leroy Jethro Gibbs' hometown?"

"Stillwater, Pennsylvania."

"Should have guessed," Tony nodded to himself. "I'm thinking mining town, maybe a little Mom and Pop store, everyone goes to Church on Sundays and ends up marrying the girl next door. Also explains a lot about your taste in clothes. Not to mention your name."

"Just because you've been sick doesn't mean I won't head slap you," Gibbs warned equably.

"Duly noted, moving swiftly on," Tony took as deep a breath as he dared before he asked the question that he really, _really_, wanted to know the answer to and that his Boss had evaded once already. "So, what_ was_ your Dad like?"

"Actually," Gibbs looked across at the younger man and thought about DiNozzo's easy charm, his boyish goods looks and his way with the ladies. Then he considered his strong sense of justice, his enormous loyalty to his friends and his kindness to others. "He was a lot like you."

"Really?" Tony smiled shyly, his pale face flushing with pleasure at the comparison which made him feel almost like family. Then he bit his lip as he realised he had never heard Gibbs really talk about his father. "Um, that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo," Gibbs gave him a look of fond exasperation. "That's a good thing."

"Just checking, Boss," Tony put his empty mug aside and stretched out a little, closing his eyes in bliss. "You know what you always say never believe what you're told. Always double check."

Gibbs shook his head. Sometimes he and DiNozzo were just too much alike. The younger man might tease him about running his life like a military operation, but DiNozzo was no better, treating everything than happened in his life like it was part of a case and gathering Intel on his friends and co-workers like they were suspects.

"Alright," Gibbs settled back himself, before he picked up his book and perched his reading glasses on the tip of his nose. A smile hovering around his lips he decided he couldn't resist the cliché. "Are you sitting comfortably?"

"You're going to read to me?" Tony's eyes snapped open. "From a book?"

"That's the way it usually works," Gibbs looked at him over the top of his glasses. "I can't work on the boat and even if I had a TV your attention span is about twenty minutes max right now. I figured this would keep you out of trouble, unless, you're too tired?"

"No," Tony sat up a little straighter and tried to look attentive. "I'm good. So, what kind of book is it?"

"The usual kind, one with pages and words in it," Gibbs teased. "And before you ask, I don't do voices. Why don't you just listen?"

"Listen, okay I can do that," Tony agreed. "I'll just sit right here and not say a word."

Gibbs snorted his opinion of that possibility, but to his surprise as he began to read the crime thriller in a steady tone Tony _did _listen, his only comments or interruptions being questions, or suggestions about the plot, much as he would if the team were working a real case. And sick or not, Gibbs felt a quiet pride that his young agent's ideas were always right on the money.

"You up for another chapter?" he asked, after Tony had been quiet for a while. "Or do you to call it a night?"

Receiving no answer, he glanced across, letting his expression soften into an indulgent smile as he saw that Tony had his head tipped slightly to one side, and his mouth curved in a soft smile, as he slept soundly. Unwilling to move him, Gibbs took a moment to search out a blanket and cover the sleeping form. And just to be on the safe side, he went and got the oxygen canister, feeling someone humbled by DiNozzo's trust when the ever alert young man barely stirred so attuned was he to Gibbs presence and the familiar touch of deft, careful, hands.

Still, as he went and re-filled his coffee, Gibbs couldn't help reflecting, that as the nights got ever easier, the days would only become more difficult as he found himself with an increasingly bored and frustrated senior field agent on his hands. With that in mind he settled back on the couch, keeping half an ear on the younger man as he returned to his book determined to enjoy the calm before the storm.

* * *

AN – The idea that Gibbs might to Tony came from MrsChaucersSquire and I thought it was so good I couldn't resist using it, so many thanks for the inspiration


	8. Chapter 8

AN - Apologies for this being so long in coming, work, work and more work, hope the longer chapter makes up for it, one more after this.

* * *

For once Gibbs almost hoped his famous gut would fail him. This was definitely one time when he would have been happy to be wrong. But as soon as DiNozzo began to get back on his feet he knew he would have a battle on his hands. Tony was too much of a natural athlete to enjoy the enforced inactivity. Even on a stakeout he was constantly moving. In the beginning it had driven Gibbs insane, right up until a pursuit had ended when a rouge Petty Officer had laid the young agent out cold with a piece of lead pipe.

Coming around the corner to see DiNozzo lying so still on the bare concrete with Dawn Robert's kneeling over him wasn't a moment Gibbs would ever forget. When she had looked up at him fear filled eyes, Tony's dark red blood on her hands, he had been convinced all that energy and vibe had been snuffed out. His young agent was _never _that still. The nearby dead Petty Officer was scant comfort. Gibbs had had to curb his own instinct to empty his entire chamber into the corpse for taking DiNozzo from him..

Then Tony had given a low moan, Gibbs had started breathing again, and after that he had been a lot more tolerant of his youngest agent's need to move around.

So he wasn't at all surprised when DiNozzo initially began silently chafing at his invalid routine. This was followed by some half-hearted vocal protests, which Gibbs easily quelled with a look. Tony's efforts at being independent were harder to curb. His desire to dress himself took four times longer than it should and left him breathless. Each trip to the head was a painstaking shuffle to put one foot in front of the other, intermittently leaning against the wall and taking odd moments to pause for breath. Gibbs let it slide. He knew he would be exactly the same and he figured DiNozzo was still too sick to get into any real trouble.

Turned out he was wrong about that.

He had left DiNozzo napping in the lounge while he stripped and remade their two beds with fresh linen, saying a small prayer of thanks that Tony's breathing was getting easier, helping to keep the nightmares at bay. It was only as Gibbs carried through the second load of laundry that he realised DiNozzo was no longer resting on the couch. Tipping his head on one side he realised couldn't hear any tell tale noises from the bathroom either. Then a sudden riochet from the driveway caused him to drop the laundry where he stood and stride outside, his blood boiling.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just standing here," Tony defended his actions, basket ball held in his gloved hands. "I wasn't even moving my feet."

Gibbs looked at his senior field agent, taking in the way the thick wool coat hung off the too thin frame, how the sharp planes of the gaunt, pale face still looked too much like a death mask for the former marine's comfort and was definitely not a good match for the incriminating bright orange and white basketball.

"You make _every_ basket?" He demanded.

"Most of then," When he saw Gibbs eyes narrow in fury he hastened to add. "_And _I put on a coat and gloves; I've got my cell in my pocket and a bottle of water right over there on the stoop. Its all covered."

"What about your oxygen?" Gibbs asked dangerously.

"C'mon Boss," Tony spread his hands. "I haven't needed that for days."

Gibbs was too angry to bother pointing out that DiNozzo hadn't been outside in days either. He didn't want to think about the possible effect of the chill morning air on damaged lungs, nor the fact that just throwing the damned ball might be enough to make him keel over. The image of DiNozzo gasping his last breath on his own driveway before help could reach them didn't bear thinking about.

"Inside," Gibbs snapped, his worry taking refuge in anger. "You got so much energy you can consider yourself on KP duty."

"Don't you think you are over reacting just a bit?" Tony challenged, even as he obediently trailed behind his Boss back into the house. "You know, just throwing the ball isn't much of a cardiovascular exercise and besides it takes the average person several minutes to suffocate and before that there are symptoms, dizziness, …"

"You can start out with dinner, after you can do the dishes, then the laundry needs finishing and there's a week's worth of ironing to do." Gibbs continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"C'mon, Boss," Tony tried for reasonable. "You never actually said I couldn't go outside."

"That's because I thought you were a trained federal agent not a damned idiot."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek and turned away as he fought to control his emotions. Reaching into the refrigerator he knew that the unexpected sting of tears behind his eyes was more a reflection of his recent emotional and physical roller coaster than Gibbs' harsh words. He knew his Boss only had his best interests at heart. It wasn't as if he hadn't had numerous experiences of the ex-marine's peculiar brand of touchy feely. But the fact that Gibbs wasn't even listening to him still stung. He was a Phys Ed Major after all.

If his Boss no longer trusted his judgement over something that was clearly his area of expertise, what did that say about his faith in his senior field agent to watch his six on the job in future?

He _really_ didn't want to think about that.

"I just wanted to do something approaching normal," Tony pressed his point, even as he pulled out carrots, found a knife and a wooden board and started to chop. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I just got to do ordinary things? How about we go to the mall? We could hang out at the coffee shop maybe get you fitted for a new jacket or something?"

The former marine gave him a old fashioned look, somewhere between pride and exasperation. Only DiNozzo would dare to combine pushing with luck with an already furious Gibbs with insulting his wardrobe. Sometimes the kid reminded him far too much of himself.

"Alright, bad example," Tony swiftly agreed. "How about going to the park? We could take a walk, feed the ducks, maybe buy a nice greasy chilli dog?"

Gibbs raised a brow.

"Yeah, knowing our luck we'd probably find a body," Tony acknowledged, as he chopped. "Or multiple bodies if we went to Rock Creek Park. That place is like murder central," He thought for a moment. "How about we go catch a movie? That's perfect. There's no physical exertion. The food is loaded with calories and I promise I'll pick something you'll like."

Gibbs tipped his head on one side.

"Or you could pick whatever you like." Tony amended. "And I won't say a word. Scout's honour, not a single, solitary, syllable. I'd make a vow of silence if it meant we could get out of here and go somewhere and do something normal."

"You still need to finish the laundry." Gibbs reminded him.

"Boss," Tony began, only to sigh at his Boss' implacable look. "Of course I do."

Bending over to pick up the laundry where Gibbs had let it fall in the lounge room, Tony tried to ignore the tightening in his chest. He was _fine _and the bed linen didn't weight _that_ much. Carrying it through to the small laundry room, he managed to stuff all the bedclothes into the machine, add the detergent, close the door and press the button, before sinking down onto the floor in sheer misery as his hands began to shake. He hated this. Really, _really_ hated it. He had no idea how long had passed before Gibbs came looking fro him.

"DiNozzo?"

"You know what," Tony struggled to his feet, his eyes dark and determined. "I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I want to come back to work."

Gibbs blinked at that bolt out of the blue. Surely, his young agent couldn't be that clueless?

"You can't take half a dozen steps without resting, you're not eating enough to keep a mouse alive, your lungs are still shot to hell and right now you can barely lift a damned finger without needing a nap afterwards, never mind your Sig, its going to be weeks before you're fit enough to need to re-qualify on the range, you really think I'm going to let you even ride a desk?"

To his dying day Gibbs didn't think he would ever forget the look his harsh words put on DiNozzo's face. It was hardly the first reprimand he had ever given his senior field agent. For all his whining the kid was good at taking his lumps when he was in the wrong and knew how to give as good as he got if he figured his Boss had lost his lost perspective. Except that, Gibbs had never had to contend with such a fragile version of his senior field agent and Tony had never been so physically dependant on Gibbs before.

When DiNozzo simply blinked once, turned on his heel, and left without a word of protest, Gibbs realised he had really screwed up. They both knew he could be a bastard when the occasion demanded but Tony was more than just his agent. He was a valued partner, a good friend and, much as Jethro might struggle to express it in words, he had always treated the younger man like the son he would have been proud to have. Trouble was, he sometimes he forget that DiNozzo didn't have the first clue what it was like to have a father who loved him unconditionally. With a sigh, Gibbs did what he always did in these kind of situations.

He called Ducky.

"Jethro, its good to hear your voice," The elderly ME greeted him. "How is our patient doing?"

"He's frustrated at not being able to come back to work."

"You surely can't be considering that?" Mallard frowned. "I know our headstrong young charge can be rather cavalier about his own welfare but frankly I would expect you to have more sense."

"It might be for the best, at least, if there were witnesses around there would be less chance of us murdering each other," Gibbs started by recounting the events on the driveway, followed by DiNozzo's lethargy in the laundry room.

"Well Jethro, surely that is your answer," Mallard didn't see an issue. "You know yourself how physically demanding the work of a field agent can be. It will be weeks before Tony has sufficient stamina to cope with the rigours of a normal working day."

"Yeah, I get that Duck," Gibbs scrubbed at his face. "It's just that I don't think its doing him any good sitting around here all day. At least, if I brought him into the office I could make sure he ate he ate regularly."

"He's still not eating properly?" Mallard worried.

"He doesn't seem to have any appetite for anything, but then he'll go out and try and push his body to its limits, to prove that he's just fine." Gibbs admitted.

"Ah," Mallard mused. "I rather fear that Anthony is pushing himself too hard in order to regain your approval."

"Duck, I've done nothing but kick his ass and tear a strip off him for being so damned reckless," Gibbs couldn't believe his ears. Surely not even DiNozzo could translate that kind of attention into approval? Could he?

"I am as guilty as you are Jethro. I'm afraid we have both underestimated how difficult it has been for Tony to become so reliant on you. He is pushing both himself and his recovery to prove that he is still worthy of your respect."

"He's killing himself to prove he's fit for duty?" Gibbs grimaced. "Yeah, that sounds like DiNozzo."

"Maybe it wouldn't do any harm to keep the boy more under your wing," Mallard allowed. "If he was back at work you could keep a better eye on him. We could arrange some sort of schedule to have him take naps in Abby's lab and submit to my check ups. The good Lord knows you are the only ones who has any influence over that young man when he's feeling stubborn."

"Right now I think I'm the last person hell listen to." Gibbs berated himself.

"Nonsense," Mallard was brisk. "That boy loves you more than his own life. Talk to him Jethro, what he needs right now is your attention more than anything."

Disconnecting the call, Gibbs made his way back into the house, determined to make things right. DiNozzo had enough to deal with without thinking his Boss was a grade A bastard. The young man had been through enough recently, if he needed someone to lash out at then Gibbs would step up, and then deal with the fallout when hid partner, his friend, his sometime son, fell apart. DiNozzo had already saved his life by not dying. Gibbs figured that was a debt that needed to be repaid. But as he stepped into the lounge room, DiNozzo's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hey Dad, its me."

Gibbs froze at the totally unexpected words. When DiNozzo was in the Hospital the few times anyone had suggested calling his father the younger man had changed the subject. Gradually, they had stopped asking. Admittedly, Gibbs had tried one last time before he had damned near dragged DiNozzo's ass back to his place. But he hadn't pressed the issue when the younger man had said no. He had been so damned sure he knew what was right for him.

That was why he was Tony's emergency medical contact, right?

They had first danced this dance during DiNozzo's early days at NCIS. The kid had been injured on the job and out of courtesy Gibbs had gone to the file to call the number listed as DiNozzo's emergency medical contact, only to find the details had recently been amended from DiNozzo's former and now deceased partner in Baltimore to his own. When Gibbs had called him on it Tony had just shrugged.

_"My Dad can be hard to reach sometimes. It's just easier this way. If you mind I can ask Abby?"_

Ever since then, Gibbs had respected DiNozzo's wishes and not once tried to track down his Dad. Even when the younger man had been kidnapped, missing or damned close to death, he had held fast to the belief that everything would be resolved long before the decision to call his father became an issue. He had always assumed that Tony had never called either. It hadn't ever sounded like he and his Dad were that close. So the soft note of _need_ in Tony's voice hit like a shower of ice water.

"_Junior,"_ Even through the tinny little speaker on the cell phone the resigned tone was clear. _"What have you done this time?"_

"Why do you always assume that I've done something?" Tony asked, his voice hovering somewhere between defensive and hurt. "Can't I just call my Dad to catch up on things? How you're doing? How _I'm_ doing?"

To Gibbs' ear the slight stress on that word was enough to make every parent in the world sit up and take notice of how their offspring _was_ doing.. He waited for the next words out of DiNozzo Snrs mouth to be _"How are you doing, son?" _giving the younger man the opportunity he obviously wanted and needed to tell his father about his battle with the plague and his long, hard, road to recovery. He shifted his weight slightly, preparing to leave and give DiNozzo his privacy as he poured out his heart to his real Dad.

_"I'm fine, Junior,"_ The man surprised him by focusing on his own affairs. _"I'm just a little busy right now." _

"But you've got a few minutes to catch up," Tony's words were insistent but his tone lacked the confident young man's usual conviction. "We haven't talked in a long time, Dad."

"_Not much to say,"_ DiNozzo Snr dismissed that. _"Karen sends her love."_

"Wow Dad," Tony attempted to make conversation. "You guys must be almost at your third anniversary. Think you are going to make the big 5 - um - well just five really, this time?"

"_I guess, we'll have to see,"_ DiNozzo Snr's tone turned brisk. _"Look, Junior, if there's nothing else, I really _do_ have to go."_

From his position in the shadows, Gibbs could see the look of anguish, which flashed across his senior field agent's face. His chest tightened and a lump came to his throat even as his clenched his fists in pure fury. How could a man blessed with such a bright, honourable, sensitive human being for a son be so quick to just toss him aside? _Tell him, DiNozzo,_ he thought furiously, _tell him_!

_Goddamnit, wipe that smug, self satisfied tone outta his voice and tell him, his only son almost died!_

Instead, Tony simply closed his eyes once and when he opened them his face was devoid of all expression. His voice was overly bright in a way that Gibbs would have called him on in an instant, adding a narrowing of his eyes and a well-meaning head slap for good measure. But DiNozzo's own flesh and blood apparently didn't even notice his boy's pain. Or if he did, he didn't actually care.

"Yeah Dad, I know how that is," Tony took a small breath, clearly considering his next words carefully, obviously holding back, before settling on a cautious. "It was good to hear your voice."

_"It was great to hear you too, Junior,"_ DiNozzo Snr agreed, all bonhomie now that end of the call was in sight. _"We should do this again soon."_

Gibbs could barely contain himself. Do _what_ again exactly? The man had barely managed to exchange a few words with his only son after who knew how long? He sure as hell hadn't asked how he was doing, or taken the slightest interest in his life. Part of Gibbs wanted to tear the man to shreds for being so damned clueless about his own son. But the greater part of him wanted to see DiNozzo do it. His knew his senior field agent could turn on the charm if need be but he was also ballsy as hell when the occasion demanded.

Except, apparently, with his own father.

"Yes sir," Tony sounded resigned, even defeated. Whichever it was it didn't sound like the DiNozzo he knew and he didn't like it one bit. "We should. Maybe, you could call me next time?"

_"I have to go now, Junior,"_ Gibbs wasn't even sure the man had heard his son's heartfelt plea for contact, attention, _love_. _"We'll catch up soon."_

"Wait, Dad, _wait_, I have something I really _really_ need to tell you!".

In a tone almost close to panic Tony seemed to have a last minute burst of determination to get his point across. But it was too late, even as he was speaking the line was already dead and nobody but Gibbs heard his pleading cry. Nobody but Gibbs saw the look of complete and utter devastation that flashed across his face as his only living parent carelessly got on with his life. Nobody but Gibbs saw the way, his usual masks, worn down by illness, exhaustion, fear and abandonment and believing himself to be utterly alone, finally crumbled.

Gibbs forced himself to stand in vigil until Tony's almost silent but totally anguished sobs stilled into an exhausted sleep. The parent in him ached to provide the cuddles and comfort the abandoned son so obviously desperately needed. But the marine in him knew his proud young agent's shattered dignity could only take so much. DiNozzo would rather die than seem so emotionally raw in front of the man and mentor he admired. So, as each wracking sob tore at his soul, Gibbs forced himself to stand absolutely still, silently enduring DiNozzo's pain as if it was his own, offering the only solace it was presently in his power to offer.

DiNozzo might not know it but he was _not_ alone. And Gibbs was going to do everything he could from here on out to make sure his boy understood that.


	9. Chapter 9

As Tony gradually came awake, he became aware of the soft warm blanket that had been carefully spread over his prone body. Turning his head, he wasn't surprised to see the glass of water sitting on the coffee table, or the two white tablets sitting patiently beside them. Even when he was as mad as hell at something his senior field agent had done, Gibbs was still looking out for him.

The late morning sunshine which came streaming through the windows was more unexpected. He must have been more exhausted than he realised to sleep so long or so late. Scrubbing at his face, he blinked as he caught sight of an all too familiar figure, dressed in very unfamiliar casual clothes, sitting in the arm chair, reading a newspaper as he obviously waited for him to return to the land of the living.

"Brad, what are you doing here?"

"I don't suppose you would believe that I just happened to be passing?" The young doctor made a face at Tony's disbelieving look. "No, I thought not. Well, then I guess I'm making a house call."

"Really?" Tony eased himself upright, as he reached for the water, not believing it for a second. "Does my health insurance cover home visits?"

"I think you already know the answer to that."

"I'm sorry, man," Tony apologised sincerely. He knew all too well what Gibbs could be like when he required something to happen. It was bad enough that his Boss had obviously dragged Pitt halfway across town on his day off. "I hope he didn't threaten the life of your first born or anything?"

"He's worried about you," Brad glanced over at him. "And from the sound of things he has good reason. I mean, basketball on the driveway, seriously?"

"I wasn't even moving my feet and my breathing was fine," Tony defended his actions. "I know a Phys Ed degree doesn't command a whole lot of respect from you brainy types but I've been Gibbs senior field agent for almost two years. He ought to at least listen to me when I tell him I'm doing fine."

"Because you've never ever down played your injuries, or told him you're fine when you're actually bleeding out?" Brad challenged mildly.

Tony scowled it was true that whilst he might play the sympathy card when it didn't really matter he did have a history of trying to gloss over any serious illness or injury. He just hated feeling so vulnerable or dependant on anyone. Yet Gibbs had always called him on it, every single time. Maybe, he did have only himself for blame for his Boss not believing he was the best judge of his own health and well being. But how on earth did Brad know all of that?

"Jethro and I spent a lot of time together these last couple of weeks trying to keep you breathing." Brad read his expression.

"You call him Jethro?" Tony blinked at the moniker. "Just how close did you guys get?"

"Close enough to see that he thinks of you like family. Because not even the best of CO's would sit by their agent's bedside night after night before heading into the work to put in a full day at the office. Or open up his own home and take whatever vacation time he needed to nurse that agent back to health the way Gibbs has."

"I know," Tony admitted. "And believe me, I'm grateful. Its just that .."

"You think he can't respect you as an agent if he's seen you stripped bare," Brad shook his head. "You don't know a whole lot about unconditional love do you, Buckeye? Trust me, that man has nothing but respect for how hard you've fought this damned thing. The only thing that pisses him off over all of this is that he can't be the one to just make everything better for you."

"Yeah," Tony managed a small smile. "That does sound like Gibbs."

"And I'll bet he hasn't even told you that he already got an official reprimand from the Director of NCIS for taking a security guard down with his own baton and holding a civilian scientist at gunpoint, to track down who the hell had done this to you, when he could simply have flashed his badge and asked nicely?"

"Gibbs never told you that either." Tony stated confidently.

"No, he didn't," Brad acknowledged. "But Cassie Yates did. She said she'd never seen Gibbs so scared before as when he thought you might die. You really need to get it through your thick skull this man loves you."

"He really did all that for me?" Tony asked almost shyly.

"Just like he really called me up on a Saturday morning and sweet talked my butt out of a very comfortable bed, a bed which by the way was also occupied by my very beautiful fiancée, to come over here and check on your health and well being, because, as hard as he might find to actually say it, he really does care about you."

"Next thing you'll be telling me he actually said 'please'." Tony joked.

"He did," Brad surprised him. "And he even offered to pay for Serena and I to go out to dinner to make up for breaking into our weekend. I'm telling you Buckeye, that Marine is hell bent on giving you everything you need, no matter what it costs him."

Tony considered that as he submitted to Brad's regime of poking and prodding to check on his health. His father had been good at providing the things he wanted, fashionable clothes, the latest toys and gadgets, those things were never any problem. His costs were always financial ones. But the stuff Tony really needed, his Dad's time and attention, a closer relationship, those emotional costs, had never been forthcoming. Yet Gibbs offered up those things freely, like it was no big deal _and _no more than he deserved.

Could it really be that Gibbs genuinely believed he was worth all the trouble?

He pondered that deep revelation as Brad left him with a relatively cleanish bill of health. Stretching out on the couch he didn't strain to hear the murmured voices in the hallway as Brad reported in to his Boss. He already knew everything he needed to know. Gibbs still respected him as an agent. Gibbs still cared about him as a person. Despite his weakness Gibbs still thought of him like family. For the first time in his life he knew for a fact that he didn't need anything else.

Not even his father.

Oh sure, he would still _like_ a closer relationship with his Dad. But he didn't _need _it. Not like back when he was a kid and there was nothing else to fill that void. Now he knew that Gibbs would always have his six. Always be there for him. It was almost worth having the damned plague, to be as sick as he had been, to have the chance to really understand the lengths to which his Boss would go to in order to watch his back. Tony didn't think he had ever felt more loved and cared for. It was kind of humbling.

"Hey, DiNozzo front and centre."

Gibbs' voice called him to the kitchen table, for a late breakfast. The gruff tone very much at odds with the loving care invested in the delicately whipped omelette and the painstakingly chopped vegetables, designed to balance nutrition demands with his agent's limited ability to digest just about anything right now. As Tony forked up the first few mouthfuls he tried to remember a single time his own father had cooked anything for him with his own hands and came up empty. They had mostly eaten in fancy restaurants or sat down to formal meals prepared by the staff. The fact that the former marine would go out of his way to make something he could actually eat spoke volumes to the younger man. Unfortunately, his stomach still rebelled at the idea of more than a mouthful or two of solid food, leaving him pushing the remains of his portion around his plate, to give the appearance of eating.

"That trick ever actually work for you when you were a kid?" Gibbs asked, noticing what he was doing without apparently looking up from his own meal.

The certain knowledge that his Boss cared about him, coupled with his own sense of gratitude and obligation at everything Gibbs had already done for him, forced Tony to be more honest that he might otherwise have dared. The other man had already gone above and beyond for him, the very least Tony could do was tell him the truth, no matter how mortifying that might be.

"It's pretty hard to notice what your only son might or might not be eating when you're in a different room, another state, or sometimes a whole other continent. Apart from Christmas, Thanksgiving and some of his weddings, my father and I didn't eat together a whole lot." He admitted, even as the tips of his ears turned bright pink at the admission of neglect. Because, what did that say about his worth as a son, that his own father couldn't be bothered to spend time with him?

"Yeah, well," Gibbs tone didn't change. Didn't descend into the pity Tony couldn't bear. "You must be a whole lot sicker than I thought if you figure that kind of crap will work on me."

It was something of a risk but the former marine knew that DiNozzo responded best to a mixture of plain speaking and gruff affection. Gibbs figured his words had had the desired effect when Tony stopped poking and prodding at the remains of his breakfast to shoot him a rueful smile.

"I thought your eyesight was supposed to be shot."

Gibbs just raised a brow. When it came to DiNozzo they both knew there wasn't anything he didn't notice. Spearing a piece of the wholesome egg and vegetable concoction without a hint of pepper, paprika, or cheese, Gibbs chewed slowly and tried to pretend it was thick juicy steak.

"Could we maybe go out for dinner tonight?" Tony asked hopefully, almost reading his mind as he added. "Ducky said that the Rooftop Grill at the Adams House does the best rib-eye in town and I miss the sight and smell of real food."

"Sight and smell huh?" Gibbs looked at him. "Are you planning on eating anything?"

"Boss, going out for dinner is about so much more than just the eating," Tony shook his head. "It's about dressing up and having a cocktail or two. It's the whole social thing."

"You have a cocktail right now and you'll fall flat on your ass." Gibbs told him bluntly.

"Alright, skip the cocktails," Tony agreed. "But we could hang out in the bar cast our eyes over the babes. It's all about the company, the ambiance, dressing up in a tux and checking out the other people checking you out."

"Got plenty of ambiance right here," Gibbs pointed out. "The company's not going to be any different if we go out. Just the check will be larger. But feel free to wear a tux if you want."

"C'mon Boss, please," Tony tried his best puppy dog eyes. "I'm begging you here. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I'm going stir crazy looking at the same four walls day after day. I just want to dress in something other than sweats and go out into the real world where the people live for a couple of hours."

Gibbs sighed. He could understand the sociable young man's need to get out and just soak in a little company and if it perked him up enough to eat a few more mouthfuls than normal then the former marine would happily slip on a good jacket and pair of pants nice enough to pass muster in the kind of fancy places his senior field agent liked to frequent.

"Do you promise to at least try to eat?"

"Absolutely," Tony nodded fervently. "Whatever you say, Boss."

Afterwards, Gibbs would admit it was entirely his fault that he let DiNozzo persuade him into allowing even a single lite beer. And in hindsight the medium rare steak was defiantly a mistake. So, he could hardly complain when the kid threw up all over his shoes as soon as he staggered out of the restaurant and hit the fresh air. Still, it was totally down to DiNozzo that he needed to be towed out to the parking lot in the first place, given how he had kissed that waitress until his weaken lungs had run out of oxygen and he had almost passed out.

"I just wanted to see if I still had it," DiNozzo slurred slightly in apology. "M'sorry about your shoes."

"I don't give a damn about the shoes," Gibbs retorted. "But if you pass out before I get you home I'm taking you straight back to Bethesda."

"DiNozzo's don't pass out," Tony insisted weakly. Then he paused, considering. "But I think I might be going to throw up again"

"Of course you are." Gibbs sighed.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony rested his head against the smooth coolness of the window pane as Gibbs drove below the speed limit for once. The gesture made him smile slightly, knowing that for all his Boss' gruff warnings about not messing up his car's upholstery, he was simply looking out for him. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, the car had come to a stop in Gibbs' driveway and his Boss was opening the passenger door.

"C'mon, DiNozzo, let's get you inside."

"I got it, Boss," Tony slurred slightly, as he steeled himself to climb out of the car, holding the door frame tightly as he levered himself carefully upright, before taking an unsteady step. "Whoa, all tilty."

"I gotcha."

Gibbs' warm breath ghosted across his ear, as the man steadied him with careful hands. Tony sagged gratefully against his Boss, as they made their way inside. He leant heavily on Gibbs as they moved inside and he toed off his shoes, relishing the chance to enjoy the kind of physical closeness he had so rarely received from his own father growing up. But as Gibbs settled him on the edge of his spare bed and began to undress him, he belatedly remembered he was supposed to be a competent Federal Agent and tried to straighten up and do things himself, only to have Gibbs bat his hand gently away.

"Let me do it."

The calm authority in Gibbs' voice was enough to quickly settle him back down. Even as his head buzzed, his mouth felt like sandpaper, and the room spun slightly, he surrendered to the deft hands undoing his tie and setting it aside before starting on the buttons of his shirt, trusting this man implicitly to take care of his needs. He tried to remember a single time his own father had taken time out of his day to do anything as simple and caring for him as help put him to bed and realised he couldn't.

"You're a good, Boss, Boss. You always take real good care of me and I know you don't say a whole lot, but you listen. You're a really good listener because you're actually listening. I don't think my Dad has ever taken the time to listen to what I have to say. We don't really talk all that much."

"Arms up."

Gibbs kept his own tone even as he focused on the task in hand. Part of him was furious that DiNozzo Snr has so obviously taken the privilege of having such a bright, eager, kid for granted. No wonder DiNozzo was always so desperate for his attention and approval. The other part of him felt like uncomfortably like a voyeur as the totally wasted and exhausted younger man bared his soul with a frankness he would never choose to share when he was sober and in control.

"Is this your sweatshirt, Boss? It smells like it's yours, it smells like coffee and sawdust and safety. I like wearing your stuff it makes me feel like you're with me even when you're actually not. My Dad never liked me touching his stuff. One time I tried sneaking one of his cashmere sweaters into my suitcase to remind me of him when I was at boarding school. I didn't care about the spanking, but the way he didn't want to listen to why I took it. That hurt."

"Lay back."

Gibbs helped the younger man to lie down with the same gentle hands and patient tone he might use with a young child. For all that DiNozzo might act like a spoilt rich kid sometimes the former Marine had always recognised that the core of steel inside his agent as he taunted danger, both as an agent and undercover, reflected a damaged soul not unlike his own. He had made it his own personal mission to try and head slap DiNozzo into shape. Just as Tony had made it his own mission to make his dour Boss crack a smile every now and then, Gibbs figured they both got what they needed most of the time.

"Whoa getting a little personal there with the belt buckle, aren't you Boss? Don't you worry though I'll still respect you in the morning, because you know I respect you more than anyone else I've ever met? You do know that, right? You're a good man, Boss. My Dad likes to look like he's doing the right thing. He paid for all the right schools and stuff but only so as he didn't actually have to spend any time with me."

"Lift up."

As Gibbs swapped the dress pants, smeared with mud and soaked with dirty water from where DiNozzo had been down on his hands and knees puking in the parking lot for soft, clean, sweats he reflected he had probably spent more time with DiNozzo in the last two years than anyone else. Their working days were long and they were both the type to work the holidays and let vacation time take a back seat to solving a hot case. Still, some of Gibbs best memories in recent times came from sharing a cold pizza or a carton or Chinese food at DiNozzo's desk as they chewed the fat over nothing at all.

"Not sure that moving around too much is such a great idea, Boss. Still feeling a little queasy here, maybe I should just lie here for a bit? Or I could just let you bring my feet around like you're already doing. OK so the room's not spinning all that much. But I think I must be hallucinating or something because it looks like you're tucking me in here. Are you going to read me a story too? Or make me some more of the warm milk? I liked that but I think that really might make me throw up again, Boss."

_"DiNozzo."_

Gibbs firm hand came to rest on his forehead. The gentle pressure was cool and oddly comforting. Looking blearily up into his Boss' steady gaze Tony realised he was still completely wasted. He didn't get generally get drunk all that often, being wary of the loss of control, but even so he wasn't used to being such a lightweight. He guessed fighting off a disease from the dark ages was bound to take it out of a guy. Even so, he was a little disappointed than all this was going to be nothing but a blurry haze.

"M'not going to remember any of this in the morning, am I?" He grumbled.

"Probably not." Gibbs smiled at him.

"Pity," Tony screwed up his face in a bid to make the room stop spinning. "S'nice."

"Only you could think puking your guts up was a fun evening, DiNozzo." Gibbs said ruefully.

"No, I mean having you here, looking after me," Tony surprised him. "Always thought it was a bad thing, letting myself trust anyone that much. Just gives 'em a chance to let you down. But you're not that guy, Boss. You take good care of me, Boss, always have. Never really had that before."

By the time Gibbs could get past the lump that grew in his throat DiNozzo was already dead to the world and snoring softly. Looking down at the young man who had always made him proud as an agent, the former marine's heart swelled with love for the courage his boy had shown fighting this damned disease. DiNozzo might not remember any of the things he had said tonight, but Gibbs knew that he would take each and every one of those highly personal, poignant, and downright painful revelations to the grave. Taking a moment to think about it, Gibbs took out his cell and called the man who had made his and Shannon's wedding rings, knowing that if anyone could help him right now, Morris would be able to take care of it.

* * *

The next morning, the first thing Tony was aware of was the pounding in his head, rapidly followed by the feeling of fur in his mouth and a fierce, raging thirst. Reaching out gratefully for the glass of water sitting on the night stand, he gulped that down thirstily before staggering towards the bathroom, taking a few moments to use the head and fill the basin with water before dunking his head in it, and then scrubbing his mouth clean with his toothbrush.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror Tony grimaced. His expression was still ghostly pale, with dark circles standing out in his gaunt features. The only thing that looked remotely normal about him was his hair. He spent a minute or two tweaking at the damp curls before realising that Gibbs wasn't going to give a damn about his hair. If he wanted to convince his Boss that he was ready to come back to work he really needed to raise his game.

Which meant it would be really helpful if he could remember what had actually happened last night.

Still as he made his way into the kitchen reluctant to give up Gibbs sweatshirt and sweat pants (even if they were the wrong colour for him and a little short in the leg) he figured things couldn't be all that bad if his Boss was taking time out to cook his favourite breakfast of banana pancakes and maple syrup. Settling into a seat at the Formica table he accepted a warm plate piled high with the delicious food with a grateful look.

"It's what I always wanted after I'd tied one on the night before," Gibbs admitted, at the younger man's look, as he sat down opposite him, sipping at his black coffee. "Figured you wouldn't be much different."

"You, really?" Tony paused. "I mean, I know you like your bourbon, but I can't see you loosing control by getting wasted like that."

"Age does bring _some_ wisdom." Gibbs allowed, with a smile.

"So you're saying I'll grow out of being a total jackass?" Tony gave a self depreciating smile.

"You're not a jackass, Tony," Gibbs counselled fondly. "You've just had a hard time of things lately."

"I know I'm a trouble magnet, Boss." Tony sighed.

"Yeah, you can be," Gibbs allowed. He hadn't been much different when he was DiNozzo's age. "But then the best things in life are never easy."

"Boss, if I'm the best thing in your life then I feel pretty sorry for you." Tony laughed hollowly.

The head slap was not entirely unexpected, but the sheer force of it, served with a side of pissed off Boss was a surprise. Rubbing his head ruefully, DiNozzo shot a wounded look at the other man, not at all sure how he had screwed up enough to deserve that level of response.

"I don't ever want to hear you putting yourself down like that ever again, you hear me?" Gibbs demanded gruffly. "You've been one of the best things in my life since we worked that op in Baltimore and you know I don't tolerate anything less than the best. You're a good agent and a better man, DiNozzo and if your father can't see that it's entirely his problem, are we clear?"

Tony stilled, his face going completely expressionless.

"What _exactly_ did I say last night?"

"Nothing that you need to worry about affecting my good opinion of you," Gibbs assured him. "Hell, DiNozzo, not all battle scars are earned in a war zone wearing camouflage and Kevlar, doesn't make the fight any less noble."

DiNozzo looked at his Boss, his eyes shining brightly, both at the unequivocal message of support and the underlying affection in his words. Gibbs was a demanding team lead, not everyone could cope with his desire for answers, but Tony had always recognised that the man was always far harder on himself than anyone else and he had never hesitated to put himself on the line to protect his own.

"Don't think Morrow is going to exactly give me a medal for this," Tony said ruefully. Ignoring protocols to let a hazardous substance lose in a Federal Agency was bound to incur some kind of penalty. "More like a formal reprimand."

"You'll survive," Gibbs spoke with total confidence. "It's just a note in your file, doesn't mean anything in the scheme of things."

"Unless, I suddenly find myself looking for another job," Tony said morosely.

"You planning on that?" Gibbs arched a brow.

"C'mon Boss, we both know two years is about my limit anywhere. If Morrow decides to fire my ass over this it'll be no more than I deserve."

"You took one for the team, DiNozzo. You think for one second I was gonna over look that?"

"We both know I screwed up, Boss."

"Really? Because from where I'm standing, McGee isn't fit enough with his asthma and all to fight something like this, and Kate is too slightly built to battle this on top of he cold and much as it pains me to say it I'm too old to overcome it the way you did. Maybe it wasn't a bullet, but you still saved all of us all the same. Not gonna let you go to the wire for that. Although, you ever scare me like that again, I will kick your ass."

"Duly noted, Boss."

Tony smiled, the cocky grin on his face fading into uncertainly as Gibbs pulled a small leather tooled box out of his breast pocket and placed it on the table. Taking a moment to bless the fact that Morris was prepared to deliver and that DiNozzo had slept on so late, the former Marine pushed the box with his forefinger further towards his senior field agent.

"For me?"

"Its less than you deserve. But its a medal of sorts." Gibbs allowed.

Curious now, Tony reached out and cracked open the small box, sucking in a breath as he took in the solid gold medallion and chain, designed to be affixed to a bunch of keys, nestling in the red velvet.

"St Jude, Boss?"

In spite of himself Tony felt his lips quirk in a smile. As memory served St Jude was the patron saint of lost causes and cases despaired of. When all other avenues were closed St Jude was supposed to be the dude to call upon. Somehow it seemed a fitting talisman both for him and the man sitting beside him.

"Neither of us are the type to do things the easy way." Gibbs shrugged.

"Amen to that." Tony agreed.

He had no doubt that the gift hadn't come cheap. The solid gold and careful craftsmanship spoke of real quality. Even so, he would bet his pension that his usually thrifty Boss hadn't so much as blinked at the extravagance, caring far more about saying all those things he couldn't find the words for. He knew without needing to voice it that Gibbs intended the gift to be a means to carry a piece of his Boss' love and affection to with him always. Feeling his face soften into an understanding smile he risked a little bit of his own soul in return.

"Guess I won't have to worry about wearing your stuff anymore."

"Never been a problem for me." Gibbs assured him with a quick, fond, grin, that made Tony's stomach flip with love.

"So," Tony knew he was pushing it, but pushing it was what he had always loved about this job. Because Gibbs was the first Boss he had ever had who let him run with his instincts, gave him the leeway to explore his ideas and trusted his gut enough to let him off the leash. "Can I come back to work?"

"Depends," Gibbs gave him a level look. "You gonna do exactly as I tell you?"

Gibbs wasn't an idiot. He knew that Tony had been on the brink in that Hospital. Seeing the former athlete gasping for breath under those blue lights was an image he would carry to his grave. He'd thought that in tracking down the perpetrator he would find a cure for the disease. He had been wrong about that and by the time he had arrested Hannah Lovell and made it to the Hospital he'd feared he was far too late. DiNozzo had sure as hell looked like he was on his way out.

Some might have thought it would be a kindness to offer a word or two of comfort and affection and let the failing young man slip away. That had never even been an option for Gibbs. He and DiNozzo needed each other. The two of them were connected on a level that few outsiders could understand. His young agent reflected everything that was good and bad about his life and Gibbs was determined to raise this young man to appreciate the good in life.

"Don't I always?" Tony grinned cheekily.

"Not every time," Gibbs reflected. "But when it counts, you always come through."


End file.
